


The False Hero

by Dragonmancer



Series: The False Hero [1]
Category: Furry (Fandom)
Genre: Action, Adventure, Destiny, Fantasy, Fox - Freeform, Furry, Gen, Magic, Raven - Freeform, Story, War, dragon - Freeform, moral, wolf - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-24
Updated: 2020-09-08
Packaged: 2021-03-01 05:01:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 33,245
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23299765
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dragonmancer/pseuds/Dragonmancer
Summary: The World is in danger, history is about to repeat itself, and the only ones that could stop it are,A troubled raven, who sought to destroy the old ways, now lights a path in an attempt to prevent the cycle of history.An overprotective wolf, who doesn't care about his own life.A shy vixen who can't act or even think independently.An arrogant fennec that hides his true fears and weakness under a charming smile.An incompetent dragon who wants to befriend everyone he meets, even as they try to kill him.AndAn irrational salamander who believes he has to save the world in order to prove himself and will do what he deems right, no matter the costThe faith of the entire world falls into their paws.
Series: The False Hero [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1675606





	1. Chapter 1

The False Hero: Prologue

By Raymora Mayven

The town stood silent as it always did during the nights, a stark contrast to the lively city during the day. All the shops closed around dusk, farmers moved their tools into their sheds, and the people retreated to their houses to avoid the freezing winds that were common at this time of year. While the season of Fyriz brings temperatures that could melt metal into a pool of molten liquid, the nights were always cold. Plants would freeze and die-if they had not wilted from the extreme heat- and people would pass out in such harsh conditions. Fyriz is the most deadly out of the seasons; those who own farms having prepared for months in order to survive the ordeal. It is infamously known as the Season of death, as more parish under its name than other seasons. 

Kavi stared through the window, watching as ice encased the village. He could feel the cold’s embrace from within the city hall, and growled at the thought. The first few days of Fyriz were always the hardest, and as the village leader, it was his job to make sure his town survives this season. The last leader failed to do this task, nearly a third of the village was wiped out because of his incompetence. Sighing, he turned back towards his advisers who stayed huddled near the blazen. The fire cracked softly within it, keeping the room warm enough to bare. The meeting room was old, nearly primitive. With cracked wood and ragged carpet, he wished he could replace it but knew it was a waste of coin to do so. Even the blazen was giving out, the longer it stayed on the more likely it was to become a fire hazard. 

“Come on Kavi , don’t be like that” said the grand advisor Ryloth who noticed Kavi ’s somber expression. He was an elderly wolf who came from the durant woods years ago and has been serving the village for many years. Kavi respected the elder, after all his judgement has saved the village many times. He was wise and the only advisor Kavi trusted. However, the other advisors worry about the wolf”s age, fearing he is far too old to continue. Countless times the other advisors had attempted to remove him from his position, to no avail of course. He merely dismisses them, saying “There is wisdom with age”. Receding from the window, Kavi took his place at the rundown table that stood in the middle of the room. He glanced at his fur, the once vibrant yellow has become matted and bleached. He had not had the time to wash himself, the preparations for Fyriz had him at his wits end for the past few weeks. He surveyed his council. Ryloth was positioned on the opposite side of the room, next to him sat a young vixen, Yiva, who was occupied brushing her tail. The golden fur shined brightly, clearing showing she was well kept and took good care of herself. On the other side of her was the newest advisor. Kavi frowned as he watched the new advisor, cursing under his breath. 

“Excuse me, but I don’t believe I ever caught your name” he asked as politely as he could. When the man did not respond, Ryloth turned towards the mysterious figure. 

“The leader has asked you a question, it would not be wise to ignore it.” he said, polite but condescending. Still, the man made no response, merely shaking his head. How this man managed to become an advisor was beyond Kavi . 

“Wouldn’t it also be wise to know the name of all your advisors before ordering a meeting?” Yiva sneered, flashing a smug look towards Kavi , who paid no attention to this comment. “Perhaps he is nervous. Regardless, we have other problems.” Ryloth said, trying to steer the conversation to the problem at hand. “Yes of course. Yiva, have the farmers confirmed the amount of food we have stored?” 

“Yes”

Her answer was quick, but soft. Kavi could tell something was wrong, and if it was bringing her down he knew it was something serious. “Do we have enough to survive Fyriz?” He asked carefully. She placed her brush on the table and lowered her tail, sitting straight in her chair. Even though Yiva was typically rude and sarcastic, taking the chance to mock anyone when she has the chance, Kavi respected her as an advisor. She has yet to gain his trust as Ryloth has, but she still keeps the village in order.

“I’m afraid that because of the recent locust raids, we barely have enough fruits and vegetables to survive a few cycles. And, as our grains have yielded less than the average amount, we will have to ration our bread carefully if we are to-”

“We can’t survive Fyriz off of bread and water alone! Half the village will parish before we even reach midway!” Kavi barked, curling his paws into a fist and pounding the table in frustration. He wasn’t angry at Yiva or the farmers, after all it wasn’t their fault, he simply felt helpless. 

“If the village is to endure this season, they will need a good leader.” Ryloth stated, keeping his hazel eyes upon Kavi . 

“I just became the leader! How am I expected to overcome such an impossible task!” This is by far the worst situation that Kavi could be in; he would be responsible for everyone who dies during Fyriz. “What am I to do?” he asked his advisors, who started listing some options- last resort options. Yet, there was nothing that could be done, the die has already been cast and there was no stopping it. He wished he had the power to control Fyriz itself, but quickly moved past that fantasy, opting to stay within reality. But it did give him an idea. 

“I’ve heard tales of some mages for hire, perhaps we could enlist some of them to protect some of our crops.” As expected, his response was a large sigh from Ryloth while Yiva snarled. 

“Are you insane? We have done just fine without such dark arts.” she snapped, giving him a very disapproving glare. While he didn’t say anything, Ryloth’s disapproval was clear from his expression. He lowered his brow and hardened his face. Despite this, Kavi pushed on with his plan. 

“Fyriz gets worse every year. What is the harm with trusting a few magicians?” His advisors remained silent, he knew why of course. Because there was indeed, harm in trusting magicians. Those who can cast magic are far above anyone else, very few can challenge a mage and live. Regardless, Kavi wouldn’t let common prejudice blind his path. 

“Believe me, I don’t like magic anymore then you two. But as time changes, how long can we survive Fyriz on our own. As the village leader, the safety of my people is of top priority.” He pleaded, focusing his gaze upon Ryloth. He has yet to gain the villages trust, and if he asked them to start trusting mages he knew it wouldn’t end well. But he also knew if he could sway Ryloth to his side, people would trust him. Nevertheless, that would be a difficult task in its own right. Cynvix, the providence where Ryloth was born and raised, was obliterated by a group of mages. Out of everyone in the town, he had more of a reason to hate magic more than anyone. Still, knowing the chances of survival were slim, he had to try. 

Ryloth avoided his gaze, the wolf wasn’t going to give in that easily. He knew that if it worked, magic would save the village. But he would rather freeze to death or burn his own fur off before succumbing to such drasticas. When it was clear that Ryloth wasn’t going to give, he turned his attention to the last advisor. Until this point, Kavi has never seen the new advisor, and it would seem that no one knows anything about him.  _ How does someone become an advisor without even saying a word _ he wondered, but decided that was a discussion for later. The mysterious advisor wore a long black cloak, it hides all his features. If Kavi could only see his paws, he could tell what species he was. But even that was covered in a shroud of darkness for he kept them under the table. Trying to look into his hood, the man wasn’t facing any form of light, all he could see was darkness. He swore that he saw the faint outline of a beak, but wrote it off as nothing. What was interesting was where the stranger was facing. At first, he thought the man was looking at Kavi , but after following his eyes, Kavi could tell the man was looking past him, at the orphanage. It wasn’t much of a sight, the orphanage was by far the oldest building that still stood, the others being either refurbished or torn down entirely. The building was small, eroded wood and broken planks ran across the front porch, sharp and rusted nails stuck out of the building like thorns on a cactus. The wind swayed the building, Kavi knew it was only a matter of time before the building collapsed on itself. He felt bad for the few children who still lived there and the overseer, Kalis who lived and watched the children with his wife Mivra. It was a terrible place to live, but there was no other place big enough for all the children. Luckily, there are only a few kids left, and Kavi plans to deal with that after Fyriz has occurred. Nevertheless, Kavi couldn’t see what was so intriguing about it, or why this man is so captivated by it. 

“While I understand the plight of the orphanage, we need to discuss our Fyriz situation.” he said, addressing the stranger. He did not stir, or show any evidence that he had heard Kavi at all. Ryloth turned towards the person, as kind as he was, he did not stand for disrespect. 

“As an advisor, you should listen to what our leader is saying” he growled, but once again, no reaction was gained. Yiva rolled her eyes in disapproval, she couldn’t believe the nerve of this guy. “Excuse me, are you aware there are many others who will be more than happy to take your position.” The room went quiet, everyone stared at the advisor, who did not take his eyes off of the orphanage. With a loud sigh, Yiva inquired as to how this man became an advisor. 

“He had the most votes. How else did he win? ” Kavi stated. Yiva turned towards Kavi , a small snarl crept upon her face. Her blue tinted eyes glaring down upon her, an expression that shows that she didn’t believe this. “What do you expect, he ran and got votes. That's the way it's always been done” 

“Tell me leader, have you seen him around before” she asked, pressing her elbow against the table and holding her head with her arm. Kavi racked his brain for a moment, then replied. To be fair, the man did wear a robe, so he could be someone Kavi has seen before but couldn’t recognize at the moment. But another question did come to mind. 

“Wait. Ryloth what was his name on the candidate list.” However, before Ryloth could respond, the silence of the night was abruptly broken by the sound of a large explosion echoing through the forest. The entire room shook, the old window shattered in the force of the following shockwave. Kavi ducked under the table in an attempt to shield himself from the glass shards that rained down upon him. He groaned in pain as the glass sliced into his fur, causing him to bleed. He saw a flash of light red as Yiva fell off her chair, being knocked back by the wave. Ryloth also fell, but he was able to catch himself before connecting to the ground. 

“Kavi! Are you alright” he asked, making his way towards the fallen leader. Kavi was cowering underneath the table, his arms covered his head to protect himself, as blood ran across his fur, mixing the yellow with a dark red. Behind him, was large amounts of broken glass, blocking his escape. “Yiva, help me move this table,” Ryloth barked at Yiva, her body shaking from the sudden burst. She hesitated to walk, not trusting her wobbly legs. However, she gathered her courage and made her way towards the leader. Ryloth was too old and frail to move the table on his own, but with the help of Yiva, they pushed the table to the side and helped Kavi to his feet. 

“Yiva, get to doctor” Ryloth commanded, but she didn’t move. He asked if she was alright, when she slowly raised her paw towards town. Ryloth and Kavi both turned around, and gasped at the sight of the burning orphanage. Kavi, instinctively pushed away Ryloth’s arm and rushed towards the village, it took both of his advisors to stop him before he crossed the broken glass. 

He stared at the broken glass, before making the decision to take the longer route out of the hall. Against his advisors' will of course, they would rather he stay until they can summon a doctor, but Kavi needed to know what was transpiring within his village. However, he barely made it to the door when his back erupted into pain, forcing him to his knees. Ryloth caught up with him, nodding to Yiva as a sign to proceed towards the orphanage, and helped him up again. “Careful. Your injuries should not be overlooked.” Kavi knew he was right, but it is his job to put the village’s needs over his own. Not that he could do much in the event of a burning building, but he still needed to see what was going on. 

The town was in disarray, people frantically running around, screaming for help, and rushing with buckets of water towards the burning building. For once, the freezing temperatures of Fyriz wasn’t the problem. Kavi , using Ryloth as a crutch, slowly made his way to the orphanage. He saw others like him, it would appear that all the glass in the village had shattered and anyone who was near some when the explosion happened suffered the same faith that Kavi had. He didn’t pay much attention to them, his main focus was making it towards the fire. The crimson flames raged high into the sky, melting some of the ice that covered nearby buildings. Because of this, the buildings became damp with water, preventing the spread of the fire. For now, at the very least, the problem was manageable. They approached Yiva, she was trying to calm the villages and order the water distribution. He admired the vixen, she was doing a great job of taking command when needed. 

“Yiva, what’s the report.” Kavi ordered, letting go of Ryloth to grasp on a nearby pole. She turned towards him, if she was afraid her eyes would not show it. For once, she wore something other than a smile, a focused and determined look. 

“All but one of the children is accounted for. However, there was no word from the overseers” , she gasped. Kavi watched as the fire raged on, if something isn’t done soon, Fyriz would be the last of their problems. Yiva continued guiding the villagers, and Ryloth left to aid in the other parts of the villages that had been affected by the shockwave. He felt helpless, there was nothing to do but watch. If only he wasn’t struck by the glass, he could aid in putting out the fire or at the very least guide his villagers as he should be. Yet, he stood powerless, feeling his wet blood run down his body. However, as Kavi watched the fire burn he noticed that a small figure could be seen inside. 

“There is someone in there!” he called out to Yiva, who quickly sent a group of villagers to help free the trapped person. The fire roared as they closed in, a few of the group stepped back while others moved it. It was quite inspiring, watching four young men and women risking their lives for others. But Kavi knew that it should have been him helping, instead of merely watching. They freed the person, and helped them get safe from the fire. Kavi forced himself forward, approaching the group. At first, it was hard to make out who this was, they were covered in burns and their clothes have all but burned off. Their fur was scarred and their skin was showing across their body. When the group got closer to Kavi, he could tell who it was. It was a young feline, he recognized her as Mivra, the overseer’s wife. She gasps for air and squirmed about, kicking the people who held her screaming something that no one could understand. 

The group approached Kavi , who was on his knees at this point, touching the cold ground. Mivra finally broke free, knocking the people who held her to the ground, and rushed towards Kavi .She tackled him to the ground, her screams disorientating him. He could tell she was badly injured. Her left ear was broken, and her face was covered in blood. Tears filled her violet eyes and fell upon Kavi ’s face. He didn’t know what to do, he wasn’t able to push her off of him in his current state, and she was far too hysterical to reason with. He waited, praying that she wasn’t going to kill him. After what felt like an hour, she was torn off of Kavi by Ryloth and Yiva. They struggled to restrain her, forcing her to the ground and pinning her down. Once she was secured, Ryloth once again helped Kavi up. Yiva and a few others were trying to calm her down, soon, they had succeeded

With the amount of trouble she had just gone through, Kavi \could understand the distress that consumed her face. Attempts to talk to her were in vain, not that she was ignoring them but it was like she couldn’t find the words to say. The rest of the group returned to putting out the fire, which has only grown in size, leaving Mivra with the leader and his counsel. 

“Please… destroy that monster” she cried, in a harsh voice. The statement was sudden, startling both Ryloth and Yiva. However, Kavi did not flinch. When he asked her to clarify her statement, her response bore no better answers. “That  _ thing _ killed my…” she grasped and struggled for air. Kavi tried to help her, but he was no doctor and she was in critical condition. He once again asked what she was talking about, it was clear she was on the last moments of her life. Yiva and Ryloth watched in silence as Kavi questioned her. Coughs would not stop, soon she started coughing up her own blood. She turned towards the burning building and with one last breath, muttered something Kavi could barely hear. 

“Mage”

With that, she went limp, dying within Kavi ’s embrace. Kavi wanted to believe that he had misheard her, there was no way that she meant that. However, as he pondered the thought, he felt something brush past him. When he looked up, he was surprised to see it was the unknown advisor. His black robe brushed against Kavi ,the darkness hid his form. But there were two major notes about his apparences. The first being he had no tail, most races have tails but he couldn’t see his. Regardless, the more alarming note is the talon like feet that carried him. Kavi ’s worst fears were confirmed when the man removed his robe, allowing it to flow away with the wind. There, in the light of the burning fire, stood a raven. Kavi cursed under his breath, ravens were a sign of death and decay; their presence is never welcomed. The raven was quite tall, and his pitch black feathers looked as if they were absorbing the light around him. Kavi couldn’t see his face, but he did notice the broken talons on his feet, and that some of his feathers were torn. Yet he still didn’t understand what any of this meant. With other Avians, it would be more confusing, as Avians rarely leave their sacred sky cities; ravens,however, were alienated by their own race. Most ravens live outside the cities, as hermits traveling across the land and never staying in one place for long. With the stigma around them, not many places accept them. Regardless, why would a raven try to become an advisor? Kavi took a few steps towards the raven, who didn’t slow his pace towards the orphanage. 

“What are you doing, get away from there?” he called out to the bird, who paid no heed towards him. Once again he called out, but it was clear the raven didn’t care. 

The black bird entered the burning orphanage, the flames roared through the entire area, the entrance consumed by fire. To everyone's surprise, the raven simply walked in and disappeared into the torrent of flames. Kavi ,along with everyone else, watched the building, suspense and confusion stopping them from making clear decisions. 

“That bird is crazy! He’ll never make it out on his own, we have to help him” Kavi gasped, and gestures for others to follow him into the building. A few people started walking with him, when Ryloth stopped them. 

“Stop, there is no way to get through those flames” he called, halting the group that had intended to help Kavi .

“What? We can’t just leave him to burn” Kavi protested. 

“He made his choice. We must stop this fire from spreading” 

Kavi didn’t accept this, he wasn’t going to let anymore of his people die, even if they are as foolish as the raven. He broke into a run, ignoring the pain flaring within his hindpaws, and sprinted towards the building. But he would not make it far, as soon as he got within a few steps from the building he was sent flying from a huge wave of energy being released from the building. It was a large blast of wind that sent him into the hard ground a few feet from Ryloth, who staggered from the force. With help from the villagers, Kavi managed to kneel upon his right leg, standing would only cause more harm. The village fell silent, no one dared to speak. For in a single instant, the fire was completely extinguished. 

“Who...Who is that” stuttered Yiva, focused upon the black figure standing in the middle of the now burnt down orphanage. Little remained of the place, a few embers still cracked and a small amount of the charred floor. In the middle, was the raven with his back turned towards them, his feathers fluttering and beginning to set. A strong presence surrounded the area, the raven stood glowing, white energy covered him. Everyone in the village knew what this meant. 

_ Magic _

At that moment it all made sense to Kavi ; that raven is a mage. It was clear from the white presence that this was skyrius magic. He must have summoned a gale to exsushed the flames. Kavi also thought he was the one who started the fire, after all he was watching the orphanage as it exploded. However, if this was the case then there would be Fyriz magic remnants left over in the hall, but there was none. It wasn’t long before the truth came to light. 

The death bird turned around, his face was sinister and rough, devoid of emotion. His eyes were a deep violet, and his jet black beck wore a terrible scowl. In his arms, was a young salamander, a child of the orphanage. Kavi had seen this kid before, he was left at the orphanage without any explanation. From what he heard, the boy just showed up on the doorstep one night. The overseer said that he was an introverted fellow, that he didn’t get along with the other children. At one point, Kavi felt sorry for the kid, he had to watch as everyone else got adopted except for him. Not anymore though. Because the glowing crimson aura around him said it all. 

“Mage!” 

“He killed them! He did all of this!”

“Destroy the mage!” 

The villagers broke into a hysteria, screaming and running about, pointing their claws towards the bird and the young child. While Kavi understands that being able to wield magic is not a choice, rather a curse set upon by the gods, he felt no sympathy for this child in fact; it would be much better to destroy this child before he hurts anyone else. The villagers raised weapons of all kinds, from swords to broken wood, and approached the duo. They shouted insulting words, driven by fear, they went into to attack them. 

“Kill the mage!” they chanted like it was a mantra, weapons drawn as they converged upon them. 

Despite the dangerous crowd that loomed over them, the raven sneered mockling. A faint shadow of a smile crept upon his face as he faced the crowd, amused by their attempted attack. Shaking his head, he uttered a simple sentence, one that was heard by the whole village. 

In a harsh, raspy voice he scoffed , “Mage?” Then he turned away from the angry villagers and stated simply, “This child is far more powerful than any mage.” With that, a sudden dark aura surrounded them both, creating a veil of pitch black darkness. For a moment it lingered on the spot, then dispersed, nothing but smoldering remains where they once were.

  
  
  



	2. Introductions

Introductions  
So after I crossed the old bridge, which is a lot harder than it sounds one misstep and I fall to my death. Well, not really, I could just fly but-  
Raymora let out a huge sigh, and closed his journal. Today, he just didn’t feel like writing. On any other day, he would love to write about his adventures to the sparkling cave, the first place he has ever explored and his secret home away from home, yet today he was just not in the mood. He tried once more to write but the motivation had eluded him. Letting out another sigh, he placed his journal and quill back into his belt and adjusted them so they would not slip off him. For days he had told himself he would write about the cave, after all he had kept it a secret from even the guildmaster ever since he discovered it, but he has been putting it off. He wonders if he is hesitant to write it because writing about an adventure was always difficult work, having to write, edit, then publish the book himself, while maintaining a proper guild schedule; or, however, he wasn’t ready to share his secret discovery with the rest of the world yet. Nevertheless, he decided that some time alone was what he needed, at the very least away from the guild. Today was supposed to be the day where he took his ACE exam, if he passed he would have been placed into an exploration team. Being a part of a team opened a whole new range of locations he could explore, locations that were deemed far too dangerous for any one adventure. He loved the thought of going far from this place, venturing through the skies of Skyrius, discovering the secrets of the depths of Aquis, and transverse the fiery lands of Fyriz. But it would seem that dream would remain just that.  
There was something about his Guildmaster informing him that he didn’t have the skills to attempt the trial, even though Raymora has completed all the necessary requirements. He could still hear the Guildmaster’s voice within his head, “While you believe you are ready, I believe you are still ways away from reaching the level of ACE adventurer.” His words were still hurtful hours after, but the biggest pain was that he was right. Raymora always had the lowest scores in physical trials, he had zero magical capabilities and is far from strong. A gloomy feeling swelled within him, the idea that he wasn’t good enough. It is true he isn’t strong, but he is fast and rather acrobatic. He is one of the best climbers within the guild, and rather smart. Yet people don’t care that a dragon can climb, after all they could just fly. Raymora on the other hand, didn’t like flying and preferred to keep his feet on the ground.  
Raymora is a frost dragon from the winterlands of Aquis, growing up within the frozen mountains. He has always loved climbing to the highest pecks of the mountains, he would do so at least once a week. Being the youngest of five children, he liked to get alone time every once in awhile and ironically, the peaks of the mountain was the only place that offered him seclusion for the winds were too harsh to fly up them. No one dared to follow him, and he was thankful. His favorite memories are the hours he would spend on those mountains, watching the clouds move by and seeing the peaceful nature of his village. Most importantly, he saw the rest of the world. Dragons are an inclusive race, rarely leaving their kingdoms. They are the only race to naturally wield magic, meaning that every dragon is a mage, they are seen as one of the strongest races. People fear that dragons would have taken over the world, if they weren’t so busy infighting. Years ago, dragons used to live in one central kingdom. But after a civil war, they broke off into four separate nations. After this, dragons had preferred to stay away from the rest of the world, more importantly, from the other dragons tribes.  
The frost dragon made his way into the cave, the darkness that once scared him now felt like a warming embrace. Unlike other races, dragons can’t see very well in the dark. This no longer deterred Raymora, he had explored this cavern many times before, having the entire place mapped within his mind. Next to climbing, pathfinding was one of Raymora’s best skills, being able to wander a cave for hours and easily find the quickest exit. If only the Guildmaster could see that. He slowed his pace for a moment, but decided it wasn’t worth it to get upset. After all, what is done is done, he needed to prove that he was a capable adventurer. He decided that he would no longer think about today, instead he shall focus on the beauty that is the cavern. For now, it seemed like nothing out of the ordinary; barren walls that traveled along into the endless darkness. There was no point of lighting a torch, he already knew where he was going. He walked in silence, there was little to be heard other than the rocks settling into place. It was an enjoyable moment, but it wasn’t the reason why he was here. No, there was a much grander element of this cave, one undiscovered by anyone other than himself. A treasure worth more than any gemstone in the entire world. Not even his friends at the guild knew about it, he felt a little bad not telling them such a secret. As much as he loved talking to the other adventures, listening to their stories and sharing some of his own, sometimes everyone just needs a moment or two alone. And now would be Raymora’s moment.


	3. The Sparkling Lake

The Sparkling Lake  
Raymora got lost in the void of darkness that loomed over him. He wasn’t sure what he was thinking about, not that it mattered, for he had finally reached his destination. He could see the faint light, a small hole in the darkness, and cracked a faint smile. He approached the end of the darkness, a calming sensation took over him at the sight of his secret treasure. Every time he visits this place, he is reminded of his first adventure here. It was a complete accident, this cave was supposed to have been mapped out already but he noticed a small place where no one has ever looked. It was the only time Raymora ever felt accomplished as an explorer, inspiring him to continue with his dream. He didn’t share it with the guild, mostly out of greed. And he knew that this place wouldn’t be discovered anytime soon, no one would expect that in the middle of some dusty cavern would be an underground lake. It was a beautiful sight, the water sparkled against the many gemstones that surrounded this place, creating a natural light show. The rocks around the lake were smooth, worn down from the water, provided a form of tranquility. Even the stalagmite and stalactite sparkled from the light that casted off the gems. Raymora felt calm, happy and peaceful. As of now, there is no place he would rather be.   
He approached his usual position near the water’s edge, and gazed upon his reflection. Raymora had never been much to look at, average height for a young adult like him. His fur was a light shade of blue, mostly around his body except for his torso, which was a darker tint of white. Most of this was covered by his tunic and pants, his adventuring gear as basic and light-weight, and he only carried a small dagger upon his belt. The gem colored light reflected upon his wings, the transparent glacial wings felt heavy upon his back. He rarely flew, his wings just caused more harm than good. He sometimes finds it funny that he was born a dragon instead of any other race. Raymora was unlike most dragons, he was scared of flying and couldn’t use magic. Sometimes, he wished he was born another race, of course most of the time he was proud to be a dragon. This was not one of those times. With a sigh, he let his white-blue tail dip into the water, watching the ripple move through the lake. The water was cold, it reminded him of the water of his village which used magic in order to stay unfrozen. While he doesn’t miss his home, he wonders how his family is doing. Are they safe? Do they have enough food? The last time he was in the winterlands was right at the end of Fyriz, the season of death. Other races suffer during Fyriz, yet to the dragons it is merely another cycle. Magic is the center of draconic life, utilizing it leads a rather uneventful Fyriz.   
One thing was for sure, Raymora did miss those days. Now, living in the land of Terravis, Fyriz was a matter of survival. It was not easy to adjust to the heat, nor was it easy to follow regulations on food and water. The death season brings the true nature of life to light, the need for survival. After his first Fyriz, one that killed many adventurers, Raymora gained a newfound appreciation for the other races.   
Raymora wasn’t sure how long he has been down here, his sense of time gets lost within the beauty of the lake. Strangely, something felt different about the cave now. He has always felt like the cave calls him whenever he is nearby, drawing him into the cavern. It was like he had a unique connection to this place, that it was his alone. He wished it would last, after all it wasn’t very hidden. He always wondered how no other adventures have stumbled upon his secret. At the very least, the cavern would remain his for now.   
Today something was off, Raymora knew that for sure. But what that was, he didn’t know. If something was out of place he would have noticed, he has been here so many times to fully memorize its layout. The water was calm, the gems sparkled as they always did. No, something wasn’t wrong with the lake, nor the cave. Which means, the only thing that was off was, him? Right now, a strange force seemed to surround him, converging upon his left paw. Intrigued, Ramoyra removed his glove and studied the light blue fur on the back of his paw. There was nothing strange about it, even if he swore it glowed for a split second upon removing the glove.   
His left paw always left him with a single question, for around six years ago when Ray joined the military in order to leave his village, he had managed to summon a bounded-blade. These weapons were rare, a unique weapon conjured and held together by pure magic. These weapons were far stronger than any average metal, yet they are a rare feat regardless. Only the strongest of mages are able to summon their weapon, and it takes a great deal of power to maintain it for even a second. Yet on the day of his acceptance trial, an exam so important that if he failed he would have been sent back to his village a failure, Raymora had made it to the final challenge. All he had to do was break through a wall of solid stone, a simple task for everyone else. But Raymora did not have the physical strength nor the magical capabilities in order to accomplish the objective. It was a faint memory, he remembers being frustrated at himself, then he blacked out. According to the officer in charge of the trial, and the accounts of everyone else, he had summoned a scythe composed of blue energy, and smashed the wall with such force it knocked everyone to the ground.   
Yet, Raymora doesn’t remember any of that. He couldn’t believe it when he was told what he did, and he wasn’t alone. Many other people believed it was a trick of some sort, that one of the officers broke the wall or something. He couldn’t disagree with them, however, for before that incident Raymora couldn’t even cast the simplest of spells. The strange part that stuck with him, was that people said he summoned it with his left. Being naturally left handed meant it was harder to learn things from his teachers, most people teach right handed forms and styles. He always tried to summon the weapon again, yet he could never get anywhere close. Whatever happened that day, could be lost to Ray forever.   
It was time to go, he had stayed for longer than anticipated. Still, it did its job and Ray felt more calm than before. He took one last look at the lake, when he heard the sound of faint footsteps approaching him. There was no mistaking it, someone else had found this cave. He growled, saddened at the loss of his secret but he knew it was inevitable. Still, he didn’t know who else was here, just to be safe he folded his wings and took cover behind a nearby rock. The footsteps grew louder and louder until it was clear that it wasn’t one person, but two. He watched from behind the rocks, listening to a faint conversation in the distance.   
“I never thought I would hear you complain about getting easy money” said a deep male voice, clearly irritated about something. From where he was, Raymora couldn’t see who they were, only hear their footsteps as they draw near.   
“Never, but who's to say we will even get paid for this. Number one rule of the road: don’t trust a raven” this voice came from a much younger man. He spoke with such confidence, sounding very relaxed and friendly. Nevertheless, Raymora knew the deadliest enemies are the ones you don’t expect.   
However, Raymora was surprised to hear a third voice in the conversation. He swore that he only heard two sets of feet, yet he hears three voices. He couldn’t make out what they said, it was soft and gentle almost like a faint whisper. What he did know, is that it was the voice of a female. The group binkerd among each other, most of the voices he heard was of the first two, the last one either didn’t speak at all or spoke very quietly. Soon, Raymora knew the three had entered the cave from their reactions.   
“Wow, look at that beauty. Guess that raven was right” the older voice remarked, with a whisper of amazement. Raymora couldn’t help himself, he peered around the rock ever so slightly to see who he was dealing with.   
There, in the entrance of the cave were two figures. The one standing in the front was a wolf, he stood tall and proud, muscles ran down his body. He had broad shoulders and a stern look on his face. His fur was a dark tone of gray, smooth and recently brushed. He wore light armor, the trousers were made of a reinforced cloth while his breastplate and arm guards were made of metal. He didn’t wear boots or shoes of any kind, which wasn’t uncommon for wolves, as they prefer to keep to the old traditions of their primitive ancestors opting to wear the smallest amount of clothing possible, culture was very important to them. Upon his back, was a large double bladed war axe strapped to his torso. He remained focused and vigilant, surveying the lake with great interest.   
His ally on the other hand, was not as impressive. It was a fennec fox, red brown furred and long pointed ears. While he wasn’t exactly short, his companion loomed over him by at least an inch. He did wear more than his friend, however it looked as if it was casual wear opposed to armor. He had a torch in his left paw, and carried a one handed crossbow with his other. The fox was a lot more relaxed than his counterpart, he kept a friendly smile and a calm expression. However, his blue eyes seemed to be fixed upon the lake. It was hardly noticeable, but he looked uncomfortable as he watched the calm lake, keeping his bow steady.   
“Of course. Why wouldn’t there be water all the way down here” he joked, followed by an awkward laugh.   
But the strangest observation came when Raymora studied the fox’s tail, or the lack of. At first, the dragon thought that it was perspective, that he couldn’t see his tail from where he was hidden. However, as the duo got closer, he knew for certain that it was true, that fox had no tail. It's not that rare to see missing appendages, especially for mercenaries-which Raymora had assumed these people were judging from their conversation-but for a fox to lose its tail and still be able to smile. Out of all the species, foxes tend to value their looks more than any other. Especially their tail, as in fox culture tails are a symbol of beauty and worth. Raymora has read many stories of foxes losing their tails and giving up on life, running away to never be seen again. Point is, whatever happened to his tail must have been serious, after all a majority of foxes would rather die than lose their tail.   
Raymora carefully looked around the room, he swore that there were three people making their way here. After all, there were three voices he had heard. Yet from his position, he was limited as to what he could see. After a few moments of peeking around the rock he concluded that it was only two people. Now, Raymora always believed that anyone could be friends with anyone, but as of now he was not in the best of moods to deal with other people. He figured he would remain where he was, and stay silent   
As he turned his head back to fully conceal himself behind the rock, he nearly smacked into another fennec, a female who had somehow crept behind him. He didn’t hear any foot-steps or any noises at all, yet she somehow managed to sneak up on him. The sudden appearance startled the dragon, causing him to jump backwards and land on his back. He could hear the cracking of his frail ice wings as they broke his fall. He cursed under his breath when he looked up and saw all three of them, weapons drawn, staring right at him.


	4. Team Storm

Team Storm  
By Raymora Mayven  
The three intruders looked at Raymora, studying him with great interest, as Raymora was still recovering from being startled, making no attempts to stand. They didn’t seem hostile, of course they still took precautionary measures by keeping a safe distance with their blades drawn. He watched as the vixen who scared him took position next to the other fox. They were very similar in many ways, she did have a tail unlike the other him though. There was something Raymora found interesting; she didn’t make any noise when walking. No sound from her steps, like she wasn’t moving at all. That explains how she managed to sneak up on him, it was impossible to hear her approach. It helps that she didn’t use footwear of any kind.   
Raymora didn’t attempt to stand, he figured the best thing was to remain calm and resolve this without violence. He managed his best smile and adjusted himself so he was sitting up right.   
“Beautiful place, isn’t it?” He wasn’t exactly scared, they haven’t shown any signs of hostile intentions at the very least. The wolf looked at him, not amused by his attempt at conversation and approached Raymore, keeping his axe close to him. The two foxes stayed close behind him, with the male standing ahead of the female. Still, they kept their distance from the wolf.   
“What are you doing here? We were told no one else would be here” He asked, inching his axe towards Raymora’s neck. Now Ray was starting to feel scared, he has never been held at blade point before. Few years ago, when he was still in the military, he was taught how to deal with this situation. Yet, he couldn’t remember anything important, typical of him to forget things at the most dire of moments. He only had his instinct to go off, and that just told him to comply.  
“Just admiring the view, nothing else” he gasped, watching the axe that loomed over his neck. He wasn’t lying, after all that was the truth anyways.   
“Quite the view indeed, especially those gems” remarked the vulpus who was counting every gemstone he could see with a pleasant smile. He carefully made his way around the water, staying at least ten feet from it at all time, and touched one of the larger gems. “Imagine how much coin people would pay for these,” he said, running his paw across the crystal.   
The wolf turned towards the fox, and called him away from the gem. At first, the fox didn’t seem to hear him, but after the third attempt, the wolf shouted with clear authority “Lupin get your tailless butt over here now. We still don’t know how dangerous this place is.” It was clear that the wolf was the leader of the group as he took the front and they others seemed to respect his command. The fox, which Raymora assumed to be Lupin, took one last look at the crystal and sighed.   
Meanwhile Raymora stayed motionless, he didn’t want to make any sudden movements in fear of the blade that loomed over him. “Phares search him,”commanded the wolf addressing the vixen. She simply nodded her head and quickly dashed towards Raymora. The speed of her movement was impressive, as well as her ability to hide her footsteps. When she was upon him, she surveyed him quickly and immediately reached down and snatched something from his belt. He couldn’t figure out what she took, it happened so fast it seemed impossible for her to have stolen anything from him. Nevertheless, the truth was clear when she tossed his knife to Lupin, who twirled it in between his paw. He examined the blade, running his paws across its blade as well as swinging it through the air.   
After a few moments, he tossed it to the wolf and explained, “This is a guild’s forged blade, see the marking?” The wolf caught the dagger a few feet in front of him, confirming that it was indeed guild forged. “Looks like our friend here is an adventurer”, Lupin added, as he crept towards Raymora. “A dragon as well, don’t see many of your kind nowadays.”  
Raymora said nothing, he wasn’t sure if he was able to form words as long as he was in blade’s reach. The wolf didn’t look like he wanted to hurt Raymora, it seemed that holding him here was standard protocol to ensure he wasn’t a threat.   
The Vulpus continued on, “It is so strange seeing dragons leave their homes, ya know. I mean, they have it so good in their little kingdoms it seems pointless to leave.” He seemed to be mocking Raymora, it was clear this fox was not a fan of dragons.   
“The kingdoms are far from perfect. My people have their own share of problems” Raymora gasped. “One of the biggest misconceptions of dragons is that we live in paradise. However, in reality we are on the verge of a civil war.” He knew living in the winterlands was far easier than living out in the regions of Terravis with the other species, yet most of the problems that dragons face take place within the Council of Scales, the central government of the dragons which is made of representatives of each tribe. According to his eldest sister, Drova who is an advisor for the court of Aquis, things were far from stable in the capital city of Draconia, where the council is held, and the last place where all the dragon tribes live together.   
“Is that why you left?”   
The dragon sighed, and shook his head. He explained why he left, his dreams of becoming an adventure and his plan to do so. Upon hearing his story, the wolf shared a quick glance with his companions, then raised his axe and replaced it upon his back. He extended his paw towards Raymora, and helped him to his feet. After that he scratched the back of his head and looked away, guilt clear on his face.   
“Er, sorry about that. You can never be too safe,” he explained, followed by an awkward laugh. Raymora let a small sigh of relief, and smiled back giving the wolf his forgiveness, there is no harm in playing safe after all.   
After retrieving his knife from the wolf, he asked them as to what they were doing in this place.   
For whatever reason, the wolf seemed to struggle with an answer, he avoided Raymora’s eyes and his wolfish ears dropped downwards as well as his tail. Seeing the conflict from his boss, Lupin stepped forward with some quick responses.   
“We are adventurers, just like you. We noticed this cave wasn’t very mapped, and decided it was time for some exploring.”  
“I’ve never seen you at the guild before” he inquired.   
“We’re independent explorers, doing as we wish” Lupin replied, wearing a friendly smile while looking at Raymora’s dark red eyes.   
“If that was the case, you would still have to be registered under the guild’s services, what is your team’s name”   
The fox grinned, and nodded his head. “Of course of course, we are team storm.” He spoke with confidence, a strong friendly demeanor that would have convinced anyone, however; Raymora knew he was lying because he had heard their prior discussion. He also believes that if he had not heard them before, this fox would have charmed him under his strong and confident voice.   
“You’re good at this. Years of practice I take it.” Raymora said, the fox not missing the hint.   
“Heh, only fools believe steel is stronger than words.” he said with a giggle.   
The wolf’s cheeks grew red and he listened to their discussion, the dragon must have figured out their secret. He tried to stop Lupin from saying anything else, but the fox dismissed him.  
“No point Myloth, he must have heard our conversation as we entered the cave.”   
“If only you spoke like your sister, it would save us so much trouble.”   
“If I can’t take pride in my tail, I can at least be prideful of my speech”   
The two bickered among each other, leaving Raymora to himself. He was filled with glee: if they weren’t part of the guild that means his secret is still safe for now. These people were interesting, they worked together like a team, yet they insulting and disrespected each other but in a joking manner. They must have been really close friends.   
He wondered what it felt like. While Raymora was well acquainted with many in the guild, there were few people he would call his friends. Ray was more than happy to strike a conversation with anyone, yet he wished he had a closer, more intimate group of people that he could call friends.   
Now that Raymora had recovered from his fall, the vixen having apologized for scaring him, he started to leave when another question arose in his head.   
Turning to face Myloth, the gray furred wolf who was the leader of this group, he asked. “So what exactly were you supposed to do?” Myloth shrugged while looking confused. He told the dragon that whoever hired them just wanted them to find the lake in this cave. “Whoever?”  
“We don’t know who they were, they wore a dark robe and said little.The only thing we do know is they’re a raven.”   
“Why would you accept a pointless job from a raven?”  
“You’d understand if you know how much money they are paying” piped in Lupin.   
He seemed relaxed and not worried at all, the fox even laughed after his statement which resulted in Myloth giving a similar reaction. Ray grinned and turned on his way when he was stopped by a stranger towards the cave entrance.   
It was a tall, dark robed figure who stood in his way. Staff in his left claw, with the shadows covering his face, only a faint outline of a beak could be seen.   
“Hey boss, didn’t think you’d be joining us.” exclaimed Lupin, who approached the raven, trailing behind Myloth. The three moved past Raymora, and explained their journey to the cave. However, the raven did not seem interested in their story, instead he pushed past them and approached Raymora.   
“How did you find this place?” he asked the dragon, his voice cold and harsh, the sound of it almost made Ray flinch. He gathered his courage, and ignored his desire to run as far away from the raven as he could. He had never met someone like this before, someone who instilled fear with as little as their voice.  
He struggled to find words, starting a few sentences and cutting them off for lack of speech. Lupin, noticing the dragons struggle, opted to speak for him. “We found him alone sir, and I can assure you he is no danger at all. And if I must say so, I think he is a pretty chill per-”. The raven raised his left claw towards his beak, a clear sign for lupin to stop talking.   
The black bird once again turned towards Ray, and demanded he answer the question.   
Searching his brain for the right thing to say, Raymora replies “I discovered it years ago while exploring this cave” The bird remained silent, as he meticulously studied Raymora. He felt the raven’s eyes, their burning gaze as they examined every spot of his body. Ray wished he could do the same, at the very least it would tell him if he should fear this man. Being a raven isn’t enough to scare Raymora, there was something else that terrified him.   
“You, discovered it?” The bird took one last look at Raymora, asking another question.   
“How often do you come here?”  
Ray gulped, trying to remain calm he recounted all the times he visited the cavern. It was too hard to remember every visit he made, so he decided to explain that he always visited the cavern on his hatchday.   
Very carefully, the raven asked one last question. “When is your hatchday?” Out of all the questions the raven could have asked him, this was by far the strangest one. He debated if he should give his real hatchday or come on with a fake one, but in reality there wasn’t much harm in telling him the truth. Or so he thought at the time.   
“Cycle 1 of Aquis”  
The raven gave no response, physically or verbally. For a few moments everything fell silent as the raven stared down Raymora. Suddenly the raven’s head snapped up, throwing down his hood revealing his head to the world. He had a narrow black beak, and torn feathers across his face. A dark scowl loomed on his face, his dark violet eyes beaming upon the dragon. Not a second after this abrupt action, the bird started to surround himself with a white aura, glowing off of his feathers. Raymora knew instantly what this meant.   
Raymora tried to turn tail, but he was knocked off his feet by a strong gust of wind. It seemed impossible, he had not even heard the bird utter a single phrase. Nevertheless, he was knocked back towards the entrance of the cave, the three who were silently watching the two took action and started to approach him, when they were stopped by the Raven.  
Raymora watched as the raven approached him, every fiber in his body telling him he needed to run. Whatever this raven wanted, he would not show. But Raymora had seen enough to decide this raven didn’t want to be his friend.   
“Bring him to me” the raven demanded, but to his surprise, Myloth and his allies remained stationary. He cocked his head as he asked them as to why they ignored his order.   
Lupin took a step forward and drew his crossbow, aiming it at the bird and exclaimed “Our job was to find this lake, not to hurt anyone” he said, his smile was still clear upon his face, yet his eyes narrowed to a more serious look.   
The raven scoffed and summoned a large bag from the air. It was around the size of a small backpack, to summon something that large required a lot of skill. It was clear this raven was more than experiences when it came to magic. Which was not a good thing for Raymora. “Bring me the dragon, and you can have all of this,” he said, tossing the bag on the ground before Lupin.   
Myloth nodded towards Phares, who quickly retrieved the bag and began searching it. She took out a variety of things, coin, golden orbs and a large array of gemstones. Uponing seeing the crystals, Lupin turned towards the wolf who shook his head in disagreement. “This is wrong, we don’t know what this raven plans to do with him, we could be sending the poor kid to his death” Myloth whispered, showing his disapproval.   
The vixen didn’t say anything, instead she looked towards her brother, who wasn’t ready to let such wealth elude him. “Look, we can get a good price for these gems, we’d have food for weeks” he protested, holding up one of the bigger gems in his paw and giving his best smile.   
“Stealing is one thing, but this is murder” he snapped back with a snarl. Lupin was unphased by the retort, keeping his stance, he replied with a swift and confident tone.   
“Myloth please, me and Phares have done far worse in order to survive. We need that coin” he said changing his tone to a softer, sadder voice. He dropped his ears and let out a small whimper, as he kept eye contact with the wolf who tried to avoid his gaze but could not escape the sorrowful eyes of the fox.  
The wolf rolled his eyes and sighed, cursing under his breath. “Why did I have to befriend such a manipulative fox.” Lupin smiled at such a compliment as Myloth nodded towards the raven, accepting the job.   
“Good. Bring him to me alive. If it comes to it, he doesn’t have to be in one piece.” the raven said in his raspy voice. The three nodded, but when they turned to look at where the dragon once was, only empty space remained.   
The raven scoffed and glanced at Myloth, who grew red under his sight. “You stalled on purpose, you wanted him to get away.”  
Both Myloth and Lupin grinned, looking at each other. “Whelp, Guess we better go after him” remarked the fox. Before the raven could respond, the three dashed into the cave, in pursuit of Raymora. While Myloth didn’t want to hurt the dragon, they needed the gold. He figured the least he could do was give him a head start.


	5. Sparkling Trial

Sparkling Trial  
By Raymora Mayven  
From a relaxing journey to his favorite place , to running for his life inside such a place, really wasn’t how Raymora planned on spending the day. He knew it won’t be long before they caught up to him, he wasn’t exactly the fastest dragon in the world. He ran through the depths of the cavern, trying to remember where to find the exit. If he could just make it to the surface he could easily lose them in the woods. Yet something was off, the tunnels of the cave seemed out of order. Places where he normally turned left weren’t there, and none of the rock formations looked familiar. It was as if the entire cave shifted into a whole new system. Raymora dismissed the thought, that was just impossible. He assumed that in his panic he must have ran past the correct path leading to the open world. Meaning, he was in an uncharted area of the cave.   
That also seemed impossible, however, as Raymora has explored this cave thoroughly. He knew every single section of the cave, but everything here looked foregin to him. While he didn’t want to believe that the cave had managed to change, he had to accept it as he entered the large circular opening.   
He stood upon a ledge, one that wrapped around the edge of the cavern like a spiral staircase. There was no middle ground, only a gaping hole that lead to unknown depths. On the left side of the room, was a strange looking waterfall. Unlike other waterfalls, which poured strong currents of water, this one was gentle. It was calm and water fell peacefully, creating a transparent wall of water that ran down the left side of the cave. Whatever had happened, Raymora knew that he had never been here before. It looked like a dead end, only a void of darkness loomed below him. The opening was bright, sparkling crystals lined the walls similar to the one at the lake. They glowed vibrantly, shades of blue, white and sky-blue. At the very top of the cave, was a massive sky-blue crystal, that pointed downwards towards the void. It would have been a beautiful sight, if not for the howling of footsteps echoing from behind him.   
He only heard two, that meant Team Storm was on his tail- it was safer to assume that Phares was with them, as she made no sound when running. Raymora evaluated his options: he had no idea where the depths lead to, or if he would even survive the fall. No, going down wasn’t an option, nor was going forward. Which meant the only way was up. He glanced at his wings and started to tremble. Even though Raymora was a dragon, he hated flying. Today, he would rely on his own skill -as always. Making his decision, shaking in fear, he started to sprint across the ledge, it was just wide enough for him to run across without fear of falling. However, as soon as he touched the ledge, he felt it shift underneath his feet. It was not stable, but it was the best chance he had.   
Raymora knew that he was in big trouble, he was terrified in every way but he couldn’t allow it to take over. He gathered his courage and took a deep breath, and started to jog across the ledge, keeping his mind on the task at hand rather than his emotions. Now was not the time to be scared, he thought making his way across a narrow path. He tried to not look down, his fear of falling motivated him to keep moving. The second motivation was the crossbow bolt that struck three inches in front of him. His eyes widened as he gasped in shock, turning his head to find Lupin standing with his crossbow drawn, loading another bolt.   
With the light of the crystals shining off his reddish fur, illuminated his face. He frowned, pointing his snout at Raymora with a cornered look. “Yo, you are lucky I don’t want to hurt you, otherwise I wouldn't have missed. Why don’t you come with me, and we can find another way out of here.” he said sincerely, letting his pointed fennec ears drop and giving a small friendly smile and lowering his weapon. Raymora stood conflicted, the members of team storm did come to his aid when the raven had him. Yet, he also remembered seeing the bag of wealth the Raven offered, and the fox’s earlier words about his morals. Most importantly he remembered that the raven wanted him alive.   
“You aren’t going to trick me, charmer!” Raymora declared, eyes locked upon the fox who stood at the entrance, his companions nowhere to be seen for the time being.   
The fox shrugged and laughed a little. “Heh. And here I was tryna make this easy for ya. Tsk, I’ll never understand why everyone prefers the hard way. Oh well, let me give ya some advice.” Lupin lifted his snout to show a smug grin. “Start running.”  
It was advice that Raymora decided to take to heart, and started to scurry his way across the ledge of the cave. The fox followed him, firing bolts that weren’t aimed directly at Raymora, instead towards his feet. Three times he could feel the bolt tear across his fur, grazing his skin as they shot by. It was clear that Lupin wasn’t trying to kill him, only to incapacitate the dragon. Lupin had great aim, Raymora wondered if he would still be alive if the fox decided to aim for his head, but figured now was not the best time for intense thought. He ignored the pain as another bolt cut across his skin, taking a small glance behind him to see that Myloth and Phares have entered the cave by this point, and have joined Lupin in his pursuit.   
Phares ran with such grace and elegance, Myloth trailing behind her as the big steps he was taking wasn’t enough to match the vixen’s speed, Lupin stood far ahead of both of them, he looked to be the fastest of the three. Only a short time before he caught up to Raymora, every second the vuplus closed the distance between them. Not only did he manage to run faster than both of his allies, he did so while keeping a constant firing cycle of bolts towards the dragon. He was as fast as reloading as he was running, the moment the bolt left his crossbow, another was loaded with equal grace.   
Another bolt flung past Raymora, grazing his left wing, he could hear the ice crack as it breaks a piece off. Raymora was part glacial dragon from his father’s side, only his wings and horns were made of ice. Thanks to this, he only felt a small sting as a part of his wing chips off which isn’t that big of a problem: even if his wings were to shatter it would only be a matter of months before they regrow. He tensed up, waiting for the next bolt that never came. He thought it was a sign that the fox had run out of bolts.   
He was wrong.  
Looking over, he could see Lupin, running at his exact pace. Smiling the fox took out a small dagger, and glanced towards it. “Ya pretty fast for a drag ya know? Of course, not saying much when ya can fly, I wonder if ya forgot about dat” he said. Raymora ignored his comment, and looked ahead to notice the pathway was running short. Except, above it was another pathway, that continued to circle the cave. If he jumped, he might be able to mantle to the edge of it, and pull himself up. The only problem was that in the middle of the jump was the waterfall.   
As Raymora noticed, the water wasn’t strong at all. From the distance that he was at, he couldn’t even tell if the water was moving in the first place. It was so calm, so peaceful that it reminded him about the lake. He couldn’t help but wonder if he will ever see the lake again, it might be too dangerous to return to this place, even if he escapes with his life. Still, time was running short and there was only one option remaining. It was time to jump.   
Focusing himself, and pushing his legs to their absolute limit, he started to pull ahead of the fox, who didn’t take to this sudden burst of speed well. He was amused as the last ditched effort to escape, until he saw the waterfall they were approaching. Out of the corner of his eye Raymora saw him slowing his pace, probably to fire more bolts. Which means, he needed to get moving before he took aim. With his heart pounding in his chest, fear motivating his legs, the dragon reached the edge of the walkway, and leaped to the other side.   
He forced himself to keep his eyes open, but he couldn’t repress his fears. The moment he felt his feet leave the ground, fear overwhelmed him. There was nothing he could do now, only watch as he moved through the air with no control. For a moment, it was as if time was moving at a crawl, leaving only Raymora and his thoughts as he watched the waterfall. If only he had gotten over his fear of flying, if only he wasn’t so scared to be a dragon. The ledge he was trying to reach was moving closer and closer, the pure, crystal clear water approaching him. At this rate, he wouldn’t make it. He wasn’t going to reach the ledge. Fear was replaced with sadness, the idea that he would never achieve his dream. All because he didn’t know how to fly. Finailly, he allowed himself to admit the truth, for years he claimed he was scared of flying. That isn’t entirely wrong, but the real truth is that Raymora never learned how to. He was a slow learner, and was embarrassed when all his childhood friends soar across the sky as he stood terranbound. He struggled to move his wings, for once he just needed something. But it was too late.  
The first thing that he felt was the water that soaked him as he crashed through the waterfall, disgusted by the feeling of his wet fur. The next thing he felt was desperation, watching the ledge fall father and father away. He wondered, is this how his story ended? Falling to his death, as a dragon nonetheless.   
No.  
At that moment, he was reminded of his dream. Of his family. All the places he wants to explore, all the books he wants to write. If he dies here, there would be nothing left of him but a memory. And Raymora wanted a legacy.   
Instinctively, he unfolded his wings and summoned the strength to give one mighty flap, gaining enough momentum to reach the ledge. Extending his left paw, he managed to mantle on to the very end of the it. Using the adrenaline he had built up, he pulls himself to the next pathway, gasping for air and panting of fear. He was soaking wet, water dripped off his body sticking his fur together. The waterfall was misleading, while it wasn’t a powerful stream it was still a lot of water. Soaking wet, terrified and confused, Raymora was happy to be alive. He knew that if he wanted to stay that way, he needed to get moving. It was only a matter of time before the fox followed him. As expected, the moment he picked himself up to his feat, a bolt shot across nearly ten feet above his head. It missed him by a huge margin, not even touching the tip of his horns. Needing to recover a bit after that rush of adrenaline, he couldn’t believe that he had done it, albeit for a second, he had used his wings! He raised his guard, bracing himself for the next bolt.   
It never came.The fox stood, with his crossbow aimed towards Raymora, but he was trembling uncontrollably. That is why he missed the dragon, he couldn’t keep his arms steady. Something was drastically different about Lupin. He wasn’t smiling, his entire body was shaking and what looked to be fear consumed his blue eyes. He was shivering.  
Raymora was shivering because the water was very cold, and even though he was a frost dragon, he had fur instead of scales. Furred dragons were better at keeping warm than their scaled counterparts, but lacked the resistances that elemental scales provided. Besides, Raymora always felt that there was nothing worse than wet fur -not until he had a choice between that or death. It doesn’t seem so bad anymore. But the fox wasn’t shivering because he was cold. Because Lupin was completely dry, not a single drop of water anywhere on his body. This is because he never jumped.   
For whatever reason, the vulpus stood on the other side of the waterfall, not watching Raymora but rather the waterfall itself. Yet Raymora didn’t know what was wrong with him, ever since he met Lupin he has always had some form of a smile. But here, the fox was unresponsive. He thought about saying something, he didn’t want to leave him like this, when he noticed his companions closing the distance fast. They stopped and shared a few words, but Raymora wasn’t sticking around any longer. As he started to run up the pathway, he noticed it started to spiral upwards becoming more and more steep as he went. He needed to reach the top of this cavern, it was his only hope.   
Out of curiosity, he slowed his pace to check to see what became of his pursuers. Lupin was still in the same spot as Raymora last saw him, and his sister was at his side muttering something that was impossible to hear. The wolf, on the other paw, did not stop the chase. He watched as Myloth leaped off the edge, landing with a roll and managing to keep his momentum as he recovered in an instant and made his way over to Raymora. The moment it was clear that the wolf was still chasing him, he started to dash up the pathway.   
Fortunately, Myloth was a lot slower than Raymora and Lupin, and he carried no ranged weapons that would hinder Raymora’s escape. Nevertheless, the pathway they were running across was becoming more steep with every step, slowing down the dragon as he tried to run up the near sideways ledge.  
The wolf did not seem to be affected by the change in steepness, the only thing that changed was he stowed his axe in order to maintain a better balance. This was not the case for Raymora, the dragon cursing his wings as the heavy ice that laid upon his back grew heavy, causing his balance to falter. But that would not be the end of his worries, for when he looked up, he saw his next challenge. As the pathway became more and more steep, it soon abruptly shifted into a near vertical wall.   
Raymora sighed, there was no way he could use his wings again today, it was by luck that he was still alive. However, upon closer inspection of the wall, he saw that it wasn’t a smooth wall, rather it was covered in small bumps and holes. This small detail was enough to restore Raymora’s hope of escape. Running towards the wall, he immediately grabbed onto the first rocks he could clutch, and once he had his foothold, he started to scale the wall.   
Scaling the wall was not an easy task, compared to other places Raymora has climbed, the areas that he was able to reach were small, some of the rocks crumbled under the dragon's weight, and his pounding heart did not help in the slightest. Nevertheless, he kept his focus upon reaching the next pathway, seeing the top of the wall in his view. He could tell that the pathway continued once he reached the top, wrapping around the cave one last time before arching towards the middle, which had one small pathway connected to another entrance to the cave. That's not saying he would be free as soon as he reached it, it could lead to a dead end or even deeper into the cave. But it was better than facing that raven.   
Just as he reached for another rock, he felt the one he was standing on give away. He managed to hold on to the wall with his claws, digging into the rockface. He felt disgusted, the feeling of scratching his claw upon the rough rocks sent a shiver down his spine, but it needed to be done. He adjusted himself, finding another rock to stand on and once again started to pull himself up.   
Forcing himself up, he could see the next pathway. He reached over with his arms, careful to not smack his snout into the ground as he used whenever he lost focus. With half his body on top of the pathway, he started to pull his legs upward when he felt something latch onto his right foot. Startled, he jolted his head down to see Myloth, struggling to hang on to Raymora’s foot. He was not very secured to the rock, he was frantically kicking his feet, desperate to find something to stand on. All while he was trying to pull Raymora down, his strength vastly outweighing Raymora’s own. Terrified, the dragon tried to kick his foot free, but the wolf’s hold was firm. Myloth snarled, cursing under his breath as he attempted to restrain Raymora, but to no avail.  
The dragon needed a way out of this, but it was looking grim. The gray wolf started to gain an advantage upon him, pulling him downward. In a last ditch attempt, Raymora dug his claws deeply into the ground. It did him little good, he watched as his claws starting to tear across the ground as he was being forced backwards.   
Growling in frustration, Myloth became annoyed at the dragon’s attempt at freedom. While he didn’t want to hurt Raymora any more than he needed to, he wished that he would just surrender. He could understand that the dragon was most likely scared, but he should know he had no chance of escaping. Lupin would’ve had him if it wasn’t for that waterfall. Setting aside his morals wasn’t easy for Myloth, he had them to thank for who it was. After they turned in the dragon, they would never speak about this again.   
Raymora struggled, fighting with all his might to resist the wolf’s powerful pull. It seemed impossible for him to elude his grip. The only good news was the wolf wasn’t using his claws to dig into Raymora’s skin, otherwise the dragon would have no chance. He started making desperate ideas, things that would surely fail if he tried them. Yet, it would seem only pure luck would save him. He figured if he did escape, then this would be one heck of a story to write about. And that's where he got an idea.  
With a sharp pull, he tears his left paw from the ground. Almost immediately he felt his right paw start to strain, as it was the only thing keeping him upwards. Reaching to his belt, he grabbed a small woodleather book and detached it from the belt. It was his only hope, and as much as he hated this plan, it had to be done. He dropped his journal over Myloth, striking him right about his snout, and disortainting him. He recoils back from impact, lighting his grip upon Raymora’s leg, to which the dragon responded with a flurry of kicks. The sharp claws upon his foot struck the wolf in his snout, forcing him to release his claw and fall down the cliff.   
Landing with a thund, Myloth groaned in pain only able to watch as Raymora pulled himself up the ledge. He scoffed and called out to the vixen. Upon hearing her leader’s call, she left her still paralyzed brother and started running with incredible speed. The dragon watched in amazement as Phares leaped into the air, landed with a roll and used her momentum to jump so high, she landed a few feet from Raymora.   
The dragon turned tail, trying to escape the vixen but she was far faster than him. In a blur of reddish yellow, she dashed past the dragon but not touching him. Now, she stood directly in front of him, blocking his path. It was clear there was no eluding her: his only option was to fight.   
Hand to hand combat was something Raymora always tried to avoid, he was never skilled at wielding a blade but because of his basic military training, he had some knowledge of swordsmanship. Trembling, he reaches down into his belt to retrieve his dagger, but he noticed it wasn’t where he put it. He panics as he searches throughout his belt pockets, yet to no avail. It was only when he looked up to see the vixen in a battle stance, wielding his blade when he understood what had happened.   
He couldn’t believe it, in the fraction of a second where she had passed him, Phares had managed to snatch his blade off of him, and he didn’t even notice it. He bit his lip, to hide his surprise, but as quick as a bolt shoots out of a crossbow, she was upon him.   
She was far too fast for him to react, slicing at him three times in the arm and twice in the chest before he could take a single step. Then, dexterously swapping the position at which she held her blade, instead of the blade facing away from her target allowing easier slashes, the fox now had the blade pointed towards Raymora. In an attempt to avoid her next barrage of attacks, the dragon takes one step back and jerked his chest as far as back he could while keeping balance. In a single motion, she lunges at him, and just as quickly backs off.   
At first, he thought that he had succeeded in dodging her attack, only when he felt the cold blood that seeped out of his chest did he know the truth. In one motion, she had stabbed him three times in the chest. Once he became aware of this, he started to feel the effects of the wounds he had endured. He roared in pain, a sharp stinging pain overtakes his senses, as he struggles to stand. Without any effort, Phares performs a swift twirl, using her tail to knock the dragon on top of his wings.   
The ice wings crack, parts of it break off and fall into the depths below him. Phares immediately jumped on the dragon, restraining and pinning him to the ground. Wincing, he fought with all his might to break free, Phares struggling to keep him down. She wasn’t strong enough to restrain, as weak as he was, Raymora believed he might be able to push her off of him. She noticed this as well, seeing as the dragon was starting to break free of her hold she drew the blade and held it towards his neck. From that moment, Raymora went motionless, as the adrenaline wore off and his hopes of escape were immediately crushed.   
With the vixen’s light green eyes beaming upon the dragon, her face showed little motion. She did look a lot like her brother in many cases, except her ears were shorter and more pointed towards the top. Pretty, as with most foxes he wondered what made her take such a path: he never thought a fox would take the path of a thief.   
Nevertheless, Raymora did have one last trick, something almost as unreliable as his wings. Every dragon has a special elemental breath, the ability to expunge a blast of their corresponding element. As a frost dragon, Raymora has the capability to use his breath, a stream of freezing cold air that could freeze his targets. However, just because he can use his breath, doesn’t mean he knows how to use it.   
He remembered his childhood, the lessons that his family had taught him on how to use his breath. A lesson that most dragons learn around the age of eleven. He could remember his father's words, that he should only use his breath as a last resort. And right now, he had no other options.  
The first step was, taking a large deep breath. Raymora knew that once he began, if the vixen was smart enough she would react to his attack, so he had to be quick. Drawing in his breath, as expected the vixen responded by tossing the dagger to the side, and began to choke Raymora in an attempt to interrupt the process. Unfortunately for her, she was not strong enough to disrupt the airflow, allowing the dragon to begin the next step. Concentrating his focus, imaging his breath and summoning his courage, he could feel the icy stream of his own breath beginning to amass within his mouth. He controlled his stream, and with all his might unleashed his elemental breath.   
It was pathetic. Instead of the continuous stream of frost that he had anticipated, all he could manage was a small puff of icy cold breath. Underwhelming, it still had his desired effect. Phares released her grip on his neck, vigorously rubbing her eyes in an attempt to clear her vision. The icy smoke had blinded her, and while she attempted to fix herself, Raymora took the opportunity to shove her off of him. Even blinded, she managed to stand but quickly stumbled, and fell upon her back. She cried in agony, it was the loudest she has been since Raymora saw her.   
Springing from the ground, the dragon rushed past the still squirming vixen, who broke into a coughing fit. He felt bad for her, even though his breath was weak it still had traces of magic within it. What looked to be a small puff of smoke, was the equivalent of freezing cold wind suddenly blowing into her eyes. Regardless, Raymora had to get moving. He knew that the effects wouldn’t last long, she would soon recover as if nothing happened and he needed to be gone before then because there was no way he would escape her again. But she was not the only one affected by the dragon’s breath.   
Shortly after standing, Raymora felt his mouth erupt in pain.His mouth was so cold, it burned like it was on fire. After a dragon uses their breath, similar to how magic residue is left over from a spell, remnants of their breath linger. Older and better experienced dragons know how to deal with the pain, but for a novice dragon it was unbearable. Just like flying, his elemental breath would be a one time thing.   
The pathway curved into the center of the chasm, creating a narrow bridge that ran down the middle towards the next entrance. He prayed that all his troubles would soon be over, but his request seemed to have been ignored.   
Thirty feet in front of him, Raymora dashed towards the nearing darkness that led back into the caves. He was so close, when something unthinkable happened. Directly in front of him, a pitch black sphere formed, creating a bubble of void blocking his path. The dragon’s eyes widded, as the sphere exploded, creating a shockwave that sent him backwards, rolling upon his side. His face tensed as pain flared throughout his body, unable to stop himself from sliding across the pathway. Rocks dug into his fur, scratching his skin and tearing some of his previous wounds open.   
He slid to a stop just before the ledge, a few more feet and he would have plunged into the unknown darkness below him. He gritted his teeth and clenched his paws, forcing himself to his feet. With a growl, he looked up to see the source of this attack, and was met face to face with the raven from the lake.  
The death bird stood motionless, Raymora once again felt the burning gaze of his dark purple eyes. With his staff in one hand, he scowled at the dragon and shook his head with clear disappointment. Familiar fear returned to Raymora, for some reason this raven terrified him. On the verge of tears, he was no longer shivering because he was still wet, dripping both with water and blood, but because he was horrified at the sight of the raven.   
How did he get here, Raymora wondered, watching the raven who had yet to make a move. He didn’t remember seeing the bird following him, nor did he see him overtake him at all. The obvious answer was the bird flew in from the lower entrance, but even then Raymora would have seen him. It seemed impossible, one second the path was clear than out of nowhere the raven just appears from thin air.   
But maybe, that is just what happened, Raymora thought. He remembered reading about mages who used forbidden magic known as Arcanum. Even among dragons, Arcanum is feared and outlawed, for unlike the other families of magic, which adds to the world, the black arts known as Arcanum have the power to change reality. Somehow, the raven had managed to use it to teleport.   
Raymora couldn’t move, paraylzed with fear he stood on the edge, facing down the dangerous foe that stood before him. With a scoff, the raven started to speak. His voice filled the dragon’s head, it’s cold embrace blocking all forms of cohesive thoughts.   
“For years I believed that the era of the Matriarchs were over.” Every single one of his words rang loudly inside the dragon’s head, even though the bird did not shout. Taking one step forward, he continued.   
“Seeing you here, I wonder why the forces chose you. You can’t fly, I know it. You are lucky you managed to use your wings once. That foolish wolf almost had you, but you stopped him with a book. Out of everything, a book was all you could think of? I’ve seen whelps use their breath better than you. And now look at you. Terrified, hopeless with no where to go.”   
The bird started walking to Raymora, who glanced at the darkness below him. He knew that all he had to do was get past the raven, but his body refused to move. All he could do was consider his options. Both flying and his breath would do no good, and there was no way he could run past such a powerful mage. He was trapped, going forward was impossible and if he ran away he would run into the other people.   
The only option, not a good option but his only choice, was to stand and fight. But Raymora left his knife back with the vixen, and he had no magic to compete with.   
Slowly raising his paws, clearly showing off his claws, he tried to strike a threatening pose. Taking one step forward, he tried to roar but could only manage a squeal. The raven sighed, and raised his staff, dark magic started to surround both the bird and the dragon.   
Dark powers reached and latched onto his legs, restraining him as his vision started to darken. Would this be the end, he wondered, letting himself cry in agony. This would be his end.   
Then something unimaginable happened.   
He thought it was the dark magic, that it had fully consumed him and his life was fading. It was a strange sensation, a feeling of power, of sudden strength that had surged throughout his body. Unknown power, emanating from one place: his left paw. What happened next surprised even the raven.   
A burst of blue energy exploded from the dragon, shattering the darkness that tried to bind him, a strange newfound power flowed through him, as a blue light glowed from his left paw. A strange force, like a mute voice within his head instructed him on his next action.   
Raising his left paw into the sky, Raymora noticed something on the back of his paw. It was a mark of some sort, in the moment he couldn’t see what it was a mark of, only that it was glowing, slowly shifted from many shades of blue. In less than a second, a white flash erupted from the mark. When the light cleared, Raymora was holding a blue scythe. It had a simple blueish gray handle, around two feet in length. The blade was not made of metal, instead magical dark blue energy took the shape of a blade. The blade was four inches wide and arched down in typical scythe fashion.   
While he was confused on how he had managed to achieve this, he couldn’t let this chance escape him.  
The weapon felt natural in his hands, it was light and easy to hold. There was no doubt this scythe was made for him. The raven raised his brow, and stared with curiosity. He sighed, and stopped his approach. “So you really are the Matarich. A shame, the world deserved so much better than you” he growled. Raymora narrowed vision, focusing on the raven. He extends his left foot and leaned on his right, holding his scythe towards the bird.   
“Stay back, or face my power!” Raymora declared, allowing a small snarl to creep on his face. In truth, he was still terrified of the bird but for some reason the sight of his weapon seemed to calm him, it bestowed hope. He may have no idea how to use his new weapon, or how to fight in general but he did know one thing: he wouldn’t go down without one.  
Amused at the dragon’s sudden retaliation, the bird raised his staff, dark energy started to emanate from his body -black magic- as he prepared his spell. Even if Raymora moved now, he couldn’t have possibly reached the raven in time to interrupt his spell. However, upon looking at the giant crystal that hangs over the cave, he came up with a new plan.   
He raised his scythe, feeling a magical force overwhelming him. He didn’t know if it would work, but he didn’t have any other choice.   
After a second of taking aim, he threw his scythe into the sky. The raven lowered his staff, watching the weapon fly towards the top of the cave, as it smashes right into the base of the crystal. Just as the dragon expected, the force of the blow knocked the entire crystal out of it’s foundation, causing it to fall downwards, towards the raven.   
With one last scoff, the Raven said something that was impossible to hear, as the giant crystal crashed down upon the bridge, taking the section where the bird once stood with it. However, before Raymora could let out a sigh of relief, he heard the sounds of rock starting to break. He slowly looked down, and saw the pathway he was standing on finally gave way. And with one very audible curse, the dragon plumanged down into the unknown below him.


	6. Chapter 6

Dragon’s Descent   
By Raymora Mayven  
The next events took place faster than Raymora could comprehend. He remembered watching the ground below him giveaway, the screams of the wolf mixed along with his own shouts of panic, and watching the darkness draw ever nearer to the dragon. He desperately tried to flutter his wings, but they would not move. Instead all he could only watch as he plummets into the unknown abyss.   
However, instead of the hard cold rock that the dragon was sure to be squished upon contact with, he felt a sharp crushing pain as he crashes into a deep pool of water. However, it was only upon contact with the water did he feel any form of pain, he was lost to the immersive action that took place around him. With his vision imparied, blinded from the sudden impact of the water, the only thing he could feel was the water as it started to fill his lungs, pressing him for air.   
If Raymora was a water dragon, he could breathe water as easily as air, but as a frost dragon he is susceptible to drowning as any other mammal.   
Struggling and kicking frantically in an attempt to stay afloat, he felt the crushing weight of the water drawing him downwards. He fought with all his might, but realized he needed to remain focused if he was to avoid an embarrassing fate: drowning as a dragon is almost as bad as one falling to its end. A fate that Raymora wanted to avoid at all cost.   
He steeded his courage, and managed to gain control of himself, allowing the top of his snout to emerge from the icy cold water that contained him. With enough force, he was able to see above the water, only for a few seconds, and spotted a small section of land that had an opening to the cave. He pushed himself forward, swimming with quick strokes as he made his way to the dry land.   
Once there, he crawled on to the rough path of rock that resembled a stone beach, and sprawled himself out across the damp rock face. He gasped for air, coughing out whatever water that remained within his lungs.   
Looking up, he saw the empty darkness from where he fell. It was too dark to see far down the hole, but he did notice it was a lot more narrow than he had originally thought of. It must have broken into multiple sections, he thought, adjusting himself so he could sit up straight. Then the dragon smiled, he was shivering, felt his own blood sliding across his body, terrified, and confused. Yet he was alive.   
If he still had his journal, he would take no other action until he had written down the events that just transpired, for the longer he waited the less he would remember. He grimaced, remembering the unfortunate parting that he had to do with it in order to survive. Nevertheless, while he did wish there had been another way, he couldn’t sit idle for long. It was clear the others, if they had survived the fall, had landed in other sections of the cave.   
The cave where he had landed in, wasn’t exactly noteworthy. By no means was it large, containing only the pool of water and a small pad of land where Raymora stood. He was lucky to have landed in a place that had an exit, otherwise he would have to scale the walls, and at his current situation he wouldn’t have made it far.   
Before he left, Raymora made inventory of what he still had on him. Miraculously, his belt had managed to stay on him during the fall, and most of its contents as well. His emergency rations were ruined by the water, luckily he wasn’t very hungry at the moment. What he was worried about was the still fresh cuts that covered his body. Thankfully, the bandages that he kept in case of an emergency survived the fall, albeit they were soaked. He didn’t have many, so he prioritized the bigger more serious wounds that leaked the most blood. There were only two of them that seemed to fit this description. One of the stab wounds that he had taken from Phares, as well as a long narrow cut on his arm that was caused by the same vixen.   
After bandaging his wounds, thanking his gods that he didn’t break a bone, he noticed something strange. A bright blue glow lightened the room. Snapping around to try to find the source, he watched as the light moved with him. He wasn’t sure what was going on, until he looked at his left paw.   
Suddenly, panic overwhelmed him as he held his paw in front of him, looking at it with caution, watching it like it wasn’t his paw but a forgien creature that had replaced his own appendage. Then, he remembered what happened before he fell.   
Drawing his breath, trying to calm himself, he studied the strange mark that glowed brightly upon the back of his paw. As before, the mark moved between shades of blue, from a lighter tone to a darker shade, he noticed it shifted between colors slower than it had before. The mark itself was strange, a large scythe laid diagonally across the mark. The scythe was surrounded by two rings, in between these rings was a set of strange symbols that Raymora had never seen before. There were four of them, each separated into equal sections but Raymora had no idea what they meant, not that he knew what any of this meant.   
Yet, the symbol, along with the scythe he wielded earlier, felt strangely familiar. Out of everything that happened, one thing remained fresh within his mind. The raven called him a “Matarich.” For some reason, he remembered seeing that word before, but couldn’t recall where he had. Thinking back at all the things he had ever read, he remembered a book he had once seen within the guild’s library. It was a large black book, red lining ran across its spine and bright golden pages filled it.   
Raymora never got the chance to read the book, for as soon as he took it off its shelf the guildmaster himself toar it from his paws, saying it was “mystical nonsense.” That always confused him, after all the library served as the public library as well as the guilds, it had many fictional books, stories talking about heros in strange worlds rising to fight an ancient threat. Racking his brain, he couldn’t remember for the life of him what the name of the book was, only that it had the word Matriarch somewhere in it. But then, a terrifying thought leaked into his mind.   
What if the guildmaster snatched the book away because it was dangerous. That meant that whatever a Matriarch was, it couldn’t have been good. The creeping truth climbed upon his spine, sending shivers as he looked at his paw. The mark shined brightly, proudly upon it, like it was supposed to be there. This mark, had to be a mark of calamity. That would explain the raven, and the scythe. Was this mark a sign that Raymora was evil?   
He dismissed the thought with equal fear and denial. Never in his life would Raymora consider himself evil, if anything he was too nice. Even at this very moment, he felt bad about potentially harming the raven and team storm, even though they tried to hurt him. There had to be another way, Raymora can’t accept that fighting was his only option. Yet, the sight of the mark started to scare him, he didn’t want to look at it.   
To combat this, he took out the last few bandages, the long silk cloth hanging patiently within the windless depths of this cave. Taking the first end of the cloth, he started to wrap around his paw, doing his best to cover the mark. It was too big to be covered in one strand, so he had to go over it many times in different directions. The white cloth soon covered a majority of his claws; he had made sure that his fingers were still free in the event he needed to climb his way out of the here.   
Just to be sure that it was concealed, he made use of all the remaining cloth to cover the mark. It was for the best, not only for his sake but if anyone else saw it they would have questions. Nevertheless his plan was flawed, for the bright iridescent light of the mark burned its way through the cloth. While the mark itself was covered, he accepted that he had no way of stopping the light. He growled, and stuffed his paw inside his dripping wet trousers. Taking another look around, it was clear that he needed to find a way out of this cave or that mark will be the least of his worries.   
Making his way through the empty tunnels of the cavern, wishing he had some source of light or direction to guide his path, thousands of thoughts ransacked his mind. Quickly, Raymora repressed all of his thoughts, he didn’t want to try to make sense of what had just happened until he was safe within his own room at the guild. For a moment he wondered if it was worth using his mark as a light source, but ultimately decided he wanted nothing to do with it.   
Hopeless as it was, he continued through the seemingly endless cave that loomed before him. He couldn’t see well, holding his free paw out in order to avoid running into anything. As he walked, sharp rocks pierced his boots and started to impale themselves into his hind paws. He winced at the sudden puncture, but there was nothing he could do about it. For it was too dark to see any dangers in front of him, let alone below him. All he could do was keep pressing forward, in hopes of finding some familiar terrain. He kept his focus, remaining as calm as he could, even letting a smile form upon his snout.   
If Raymora wasn’t the explorer that he was, the dragon would’ve stayed back at the lake, giving up on any chance of escape. However, this wasn’t the first time the dragon had been lost before. Every good explore leaves some form of trail, either by mapping or physical markings like Raymora does, although that was currently impossible for his lack of knife, but even the best explorers can still become lost in the beauty of the old or untampered world.   
Still, this was unlike the many other times that Raymora had been in trouble. He had his share of ancient traps, deadly primals, and foreboding mazes. Even so, it was his first time fleeing from another sentient species. His smile only widened when he had realized that he had just escaped the clutches of a dangerous team of mercenaries, not to mention a powerful spellcrafter. There was no way the guildmaster could ignore his skills now. Unfortunately, his face fell when he remembered that he shouldn’t tell people about his mark, nor the scythe. With a snarl, he figured he needed to come up with a cover story to explain his injuries.  
Just as the dragon came up with a semi-plausible sounding plan, he noticed a peculiar shine in the distance. He couldn’t believe it, he assumed that he was miles underground. Yet upon closer inspection he laughed at his doubt, as the sight of the moonlight relaxed his fears. A tiny hole in the ceiling allowed a small beam of light through it. Somehow, despite the fact that he fell almost a hundred meters, he was near the surface. With his hope renewed, he quickened his pace determined to find his way out. Not a few moments longer he saw it, an opening that led to the outside. He was free.   
A huge wave of relief flew through him, the sensation was empowering and welcomed in his current state. Once he made his way outside the cave he was happy to see the moon standing high and proud above the world. From its position, he knew it was near midnight, meaning he had only lost a few hours in that cave. True, he didn’t know exactly how many, but that was of little importance to him.   
Judging from the swaying trees standing around him, Raymora knew he was still in the same forest as the guild. The sight of nature was always a welcoming one, nature was pure and untampered with. In it, everything moved with purpose, from the grand trees to the smallest of plants.   
Walking through the large bushes that had covered the ground, he kept his eye out for a path or something that could lead him to civilization; as much as Raymora loved nature he also knew of the dangers of staying in one place for long. The forest wasn’t as dense as others he had read about, among the gaps in the vegetation and other plantlife, he spotted a worn down dirt road that traveled towards the east.   
One of the first rules that anyone learns, is that roads can lead to shelter: a town or village most likely. He felt comfort at the sight of it, now all that was left was to follow the broken dirt road that had been worn down from years of use. The road was made of a lighter dirt, small lines were engraved into the terran to guide fellow travelers through the forest.   
The dragon walked with calm careful steps for he wasn’t in much rush to get back to the guild, and took in the beauty that was the forest. It was the middle of Terravis, the final season before a new rotation. A time where flowers bloom, plants flourish and nature sings. As a dragon, Raymora always found the culture of seasons to be very intriguing. His own kin doesn’t see much different from season to season, for they can prevent any change with the amount of magic they welid. But here, within the peaceful confines of nature, of the world that Raymora has come to love, harmony flowed its way through everything. If only it lasted forever, he thought. In a few more days, the season of death will be upon them..   
Lost within the tranquility of nature Raymora hummed a joyful tone, he still had many questions but those would have to wait. However, as he continued down the road, he could hear a familiar voice in the distance. Creeping his way to the noise, keeping his steps short and his body hidden behind the bushes, he confirmed his suspicions.   
“Damn it. That is the last time we take a job from a raven!” Myloth growled, vigorously shaking his fur dry. Next to him stood the vixen, who was wringing her tail, trying to remove all the water from it. Behind the duo was a trail of mud, as they both were dripping head to toe with water. It would seem they had also taken the plunge, but must have landed in a different area from Raymora.   
Not forgetting their earlier intentions, Raymora still felt bad for them. He was thankful to see them alive, except for the fact that Lupin was nowhere to be seen. A grim feeling overcame him as he looked around for any signs of the vulpus.   
Just when he was about to give into his fears, another voice emerged from the forest. “Hey, it was easy money!” Lupin called, making his way over a fallen log. Phares’ ears perked up at the sound of her brother's voice, and leaped at him, wrapping his arms around him and hugging him affectionately. He laughed as he welcomed her embrace, lifting her in his arms. Both of the foxes were very happy to see each other.  
On the other hand, the wolf wasn’t pleased. “Demons Damnation Lupin! This is all your fault, if things had gone a bit differently you would’ve been dead.” He howled.  
“Yet I stand alive, don’t I? There was no danger, didn’t you see? Phares had the whelp by his neck.” The fox was back to his normal, more familiar state. He spoke with a proud smile, as he stroked his sisters fur, brushing her neck. It was strange, back at the waterfall he looked so much different. Any trace of fear was gone, or at the very least hidden behind his smile.   
The wolf scoffed and shook his head, not satisfied with Lupin’s answers. The two bickered among each other once again.  
Content knowing that he had not killed anyone, Raymora decided it would be best to quitely return to his path, when Myloth said something that caught his attention.   
“What do you mean he could have killed us? If it wasn’t for that crystal randomly falling, you would’ve had him.” Lupin said, raising an eyebrow at Myloth who had just said the dragon allowed them to live.  
The moon started to fall, it’s bright light reflected upon the three as they moved closer towards Myloth. Even Raymora inched closer.  
Once they drew close enough, the wolf quickly examined the forest, with Raymora barely managing to remain undetected. Then, he spoke softly, leaning closer to his friends. The sounds of his voice were hidden from Raymora, and unless he wanted to get caught he couldn’t move any closer. However, from Phares and Lupin’s reaction, he knew it wasn’t good news.   
The vixen wheeled back, dumbstruck at whatever the wolf had just told her. Lupin started with disbelief, blinking once as a sign of confusion. Then, to the surprise of Myloth and his sister, he laughed. Wiping an invisible tear from his eye, he responded with amusement. “Dang wolffie, never knew you had a sense of humor.”   
Narrowing his eyes and moving his snout to display his fangs, he was clearly upset with Lupin’s reaction. “This isn’t a joke.” He snarled, taking a step towards the fox. The vixen took a small step backwards, but her brother merely giggled and approached the irriatied wolf, patting him on his muzzle. Raymora couldn’t tell if he was brave, or just stupid.   
With a sigh, Myloth brushed the yellow paw off his snout and pleaded that Lupin used his brain for once. “I’d be dead if I didn’t darling. Look, I trust you Myloth, but come on, even you can attest it’s a stupid theory. Are you really going to let a children’s tale consume your fears?”   
When Myloth opened his mouth to respond, he was interrupted by an unsettling sound from behind him. The bushes and leaves of smaller plants rustled, when they turned around to see a figure pushing it’s way past the plantlife. A familiar presence surrounded the area, one that filled Raymora with fear and dread.   
Those fears only grew as the raven made his way into clear light, the moon shining upon his jetblack feathers. Raymora restrained his immediate instinct to run, worried that it would draw attention towards him. In his current state, there was no way he could fight or flee, the only option was to hide.   
Lupin shot the bird a friendly smile, as Phares positioned herself behind her brother, remaining low to the ground and vigilant. They seemed to be wary of the bird, even though they had no real reason to. Yet that didn’t stop Myloth from drawing his blade, and taking three large steps, putting himself in front of his allies as if to protect them from the raven.   
With a large howl, the wolf held his axe and assumed a defensive stance, furious determination replaced his stern expression. “You knew didn’t you? If I had known, we would’ve never accepted the job no matter how much you offered!” he barked, keeping his guard up. The raven didn’t seem to acknowledge the wolf’s declaration. Other than the fact he didn’t have his staff on him, he hasn’t changed at all since Raymora had last seen him.   
His robe appeared perfectly intact, no signs of water anywhere upon his feathers, even his serious demeanor remained as it did before.   
It was silent, no one made a move nor did they dare speak. Lupin and Phares were confused at Myloth’s actions, but made no attempt to approach him. Only a few sounds of rustling leaves could be heard, only adding to the increasing tension.   
With another big step forward, Myloth drew himself closer to the raven and demanded a response. When he didn’t receive one, the bird not even sharing a glance with him, he howled once again.   
“Don’t you ignore me! You’re lucky that whelp didn’t kill any of my friends, or I would have your head!” He said, stomping the ground with rage. Finaily, Lupin decided that he needed to do something quick, for he crawled up to Myloth and whispered something in his ear. “So what? We’d have a better chance at taking on this spellcrafter than lasting another second against the Matarich!” He snapped.   
The bird raised his beak, and turned his neck to face the wolf, who moved in front of Lupin, pushing the fox to the side. “So you know of the Matarich?” he asked with his voice that Raymora will never forget. By this point, even if Raymora wanted to flee he couldn’t for fear struck him motionless.   
“Of course I know! That scythe, the infernal mark. It’s just like the stories of the Matriarch. And if those stories have any amount of truth, my friends and I are lucky to be alive.”   
“Don’t be ridiculous Myloth. Those children's stories that you may have heard when you are a pup are just tales of adventure. Everyone knows the Matriarch doesn’t exist.” Lupin started in protest, grabbing the wolf by his arm and trying to pull him away from the raven.   
Raymora had no idea what they were talking about. Other than that book, and the raven, he has never heard of the term Matriarch. Glancing at the faint glow that shined through the bandages, he shuddered to think about the horrible implications that it had meant. From what he could gather from the wolf, the Matriarch must be a very dangerous individual. Scattering across his mind trying to find his sense, he was brought back to reality as he heard the dread filling voice of the raven.   
“No. Your friend here is correct. The Matriarch is back: and with him brings a time of change.” From the folds of his robe, he produced a small golden bag, just like the one he had offered at the cave. Expressing his gratitude, albeit with little emotion, he tossed the bag directly in front of Lupin. The bag sparkled and glowed, providing a small amount of light around it.   
A few purple gemstones and some golden coins spilled from the bag as it landed on the floor. Lupin’s eyes widened as he let out a gleeful cheer, the small fortune that laid so close beckoned to him. However, as he attempted to reach for the bag, Myloth shoulderd him to the side, and sent the bag flying into the deep forest with a mighty kick. The treasures disappeared with a tinkle, never to be seen again.   
A loud cry was heard, one of distress and anger. Still, even in his state of distraught, Lupin maintained his composer. Picking himself off the ground, he calmly turned towards Myloth, and said in the most passive aggressive tone Raymora has ever heard, “That was one hell of a misstep.”   
Ignoring Lupin’s condescending reaction, he returned his aggressive stare at the raven. “We don’t want your stupid wealth.” Lupin raised his muzzle in order to protest, but a quick glance from Phares and he turned away, forcing a pleasant smile as to hold back his disappointment. “What I want, is to never see your feathered face again, or so help me I’ll tear off your feathers and wear them like a cape.”   
It was no idle threat, Raymora was sure of that, but nevertheless the raven paid no heed to the wolf. Shortly after the wolf had made his statement, everything fell silent. Concealed within the bushes, Raymora held his breath, afraid the slightest of sounds would give his position away. The only sound that he could hear was his heart hammering against his chest.   
Soon, the raven started to laugh. It was not one of joy, for it was almost entirely sarcastic. Clenching his teeth, Raymora cringed, the sound of the broken laughter was far worse than the raven’s voice. If anything, it was more of a sherik than a laugh.   
Even the three companions were uneased, with Myloth going as far as taking a step back. Lupin slowly back steps towards his sister, keeping his eyes locked on the now deranged bird. This is what fear is, Raymora thought.   
In reality, it was only for a few moments, but even after he had returned to silence, everyone could still hear the nightmarish sounds of it.   
But that was not the end of it, as the bird wore a new expression upon his face. It was a fiendish grin, one that held no modesty or compliance. His gaze widened, he was now looking at all three of them opposed. Raymora had never seen anything so terrifying. He opened his beak, anyone who heard it flinched at the sound of his harsh voice.  
“You are mistaken. While I have no wish for it to be so; all of you are more important than you should be. Believe what you wish, but know that upon our next meeting, everything you might think you understand, will change forever.”   
He paused, and looked directly at Raymora, his dreadful purple eyes staring right into the dragon, causing him to wince as the raven added, “Especially for you, Raymora Mayven.”  
With that, the familiar purple energy surrounded him and imploded, leaving nothing but magical residue and four dumbstruck animals.


	7. Legends of The Matriarch

Legends of the Matriarch  
By Raymora Mayven  
It didn’t take much longer for Raymora to find his way towards the Nivren, the city where the guild was located. Not that he could really tell the time, however he did note that as he reached the city’s gates the sun was starting to rise.   
However, before he got too close to the gate, he checked to see if the mark was still there. He only uncovered just a little bit, which was just enough to see the bright shine of the mark. With a sigh, he replaced his paw back into the folds of his pants, continuing towards the gates.   
Metal doors made from steel, recently polished blocked his way. The wall itself was composed of wooden spikes stranded together-the first line of defense for the city. It was similar to the training camp that Raymora spent his first years outside the winterlands in, but unlike the camp the walls had no battlements. Instead of rows of archers, only two guards stood at the gates.   
A dog and a panther stood guard. The canine wasn’t much taller than Raymora, but he was much more muscular than the dragon. Wearing a large breastplate and steel leggings with a long sword strapped on his back, along with his broad shoulders and stern expression gave away his identification as Captain Orlin.   
The panther had identical armor to Orlin, minus the ranking marks that Orlin had on his shoulder plates, but instead of a longsword, he held a silvery pike in his arms. Raymora could tell he was new, his eyes shifted from place to place and the moment the dragon approached them, he thrusted his pike forward to discourage any more advancement.   
“Knock it off Tek, don’t raise your weapon unless needed to,” barked Orlin.   
The panther fumbled with the pike, muttering a frantic “Yes sir” as he loses his grip and drops the weapon. He stumbles back from it, cowering from the snarling canine, who was looking at him with building anger.   
“How did you even pass training?” he snapped, which Raymora found funny because he often finds himself asking the same thing. However, the moment passed as he knew that it had something to do with that mark.   
From what he had heard, Orlin was never in a good mood, and he never treated anyone with respect. He decided that now was not the time for discussion and quickly hurried past them, giving Tek a nod of sympathy as the canine howled in his face. The panther smiled in appreciation and turned back towards his Captain.   
As Raymora walked through the gates, he heard the commanding voice of Orlin. “Stop right there,” he said, making his way to the dragon, Tek following in his path.   
Raymora was worried that Orlin had somehow noticed his mark, but realized that the dog was looking at his injuries.   
“Hmmm, looks like you’ve seen some action” he noted, watching the dragon as he nervously turned around. “What happened to your wings?” It was a simple question, but Raymora didn’t have an idea how to answer it. Back in the cave he did come up with a plan to explain, but he had forgotten it entirely. Typical Raymora.  
Trying his hardest to keep a blank face, he matched the light green eyes of Orlin. He needed to be very careful on what he would say, dragons weren’t really accepted by the other races. They viewed him as a dangerous, bloodlusting creature. He nearly choked on his next words, having to catch his breath after they left his maw.   
“I wasn’t paying attention and crashed into a tree.” he stuttered, gesturing towards his cracked horns. To his surprise, Orlin laughed and turned towards Tek.   
“See what I mean, everyone says we should be worried about dragons taking over the world, but look, they’re just a bunch of dumb lizards” He preteneded to lower his voice, but it was clear he wanted Raymora to hear.   
Excusing himself from further ridicule, Raymora walked back towards the village. Orlin called out something to him, along the lines of “Tell your kin that their pathetic tricks are nothing against true steel.” but he wasn’t entirely sure.   
The city was as full of life as ever, market stalls ran down the streets of the city filled with exotic goods from distant lands. Colorful displays of the artistry brightened up the buildings and the sounds of haggling and laughter filled the air. It was a warming feeling, although he could feel the eyes of the townspeople watching him, some even taking extra steps to avoid direct contact with him.   
Thankfully, he didn’t deal with much hate as a dragon, at the very least people weren’t as verbal about it when he was near. To be fair, Raymora knew why dragons got such a bad reputation, hiding away while the world suffered. Nevertheless, he kept a cheery smile as he made his way through the city. He just wanted to be treated like everyone else, after all the other primary species of terravis got along just fine.   
While Raymora wanted to reach the guildhall as soon as possible, he couldn’t help himself but visit a lone stall in the corner of the main plaza. Very few people came here, many kept their distance from Natkual, the only other dragon who lived in the city.   
He was washing a silvery plate by summoning a small orb of water that floated in the air and placed the plate inside it. With a twirl of his paw, he spun the plate inside and began to scrub it clean. The dragon looked up at Raymora as he drew near, giving him a friendly smile from his maw.   
Natkual was vastly different from Raymora. While they both came from the tribes of Aquis, Natkual hatched in the central dragon kingdom of aquis, Cerveia. The dragons born there are much different from the ones that grow within the winterlands, for instead of fur they had scales that glistened like a crystal under the moonlight, and are hatched with a set of gills that allowed them to breath water. Waterscales also had webbed feet and paws, their wings resembling large fins that allowed them to swim better than any other mammal.   
There are times Raymora wished he was a waterscale, rather than a frost dragon.   
The water dragon was a lot smaller than Raymora, yet hundreds of years older. He had once served as the royal advisor for the representative of Aquis, but he left because he disagreed with how things were run. At one point in his life, his scales sparkled with pride and beauty, Raymora wished he could’ve seen him in his prime. Sadly, what once may have been an intelligent and talented dragon has been reduced to a mere shadow.   
“You know, if the council saw how I treated magic, I’d be banished faster than a Skycrawler in a race.” he sighed, waving his paw over the orb and sprinkling some soap-like substance into it. “Main reason I left of course, too many stupid rules and restrictions on magic use. Not to mention the council is just a bunch of attention seeking dragonlings who should-”   
He rambled on for sometime, occasionally swapping the plate for another one and adding more soap whenever he needed too. Of course, Raymora noticed that it wasn’t normal soap, for when he added it to the water, anything that was left over from the plates disappeared and the water looked clear as ever.   
Raymora always wondered why someone would go from one of the most trusted advisors to a freelance dishwasher of all things.   
As the old dragon continued to rant on, Raymora smiled and nodded politely to show he was still paying attention. He knew Natkual was just an ancient dragon, who just needed someone to talk to every once in a while. Everyone kept their distance from him, as they did with Raymora.   
Eventually, Natkual apologized to Raymora for wasting his time, offering a small amount of bread that he kept under the counter, which he respectfully declined.  
“Are you sure, you must be hungry after a long day of adventure, or I assume that’s what you’ve been up two, judging from those wounds.” he explained, inching the bread closer to Raymora’s snout.   
He instinctively pushed it aside with his left paw. It didn’t occur to him what he had just done until he saw the astonished, and slightly terrified, look of the dragon who offered him the bread.   
Startled, he yanked his paw back towards him and cursorily looked around to see if anyone else had seen the mark. No one seemed to have noticed, which surprised him as he always figured he was being watched whenever he walked through the town. Still, he tensed up and kept his paw down.   
A beam of sunlight shined on him as the Sun reached its peak, warming Raymora’s fur and reminding the dragon that he needed to get back to the guild before anyone notices his mark. Before he left however, he turned back to the Waterscale -who remained in the same spot as before, bread in claw- and asked if he was alright.   
Natkual retracted the bread and shook his head, saying he was perfectly fine. Nevertheless, he wanted to know what was going on with Ramoyra’s paw.   
“Nothing!” he said immediately, slowly taking a few steps backwards. “It’s just, I err, had some trouble today. You know how dangerous adventuring can be, even for a dragon. My paw’s perfectly fine, just a little cut that’s all.” He didn’t sound convincing, even he knew that.   
“Most cuts don’t glow blue, whelp. Is there something you aren’t telling me? Remember it is unwise to lie to a dragon.” he crocked, the sunlight intensifying his dark blue scales. From the way the light reflected off his eyes, it was almost like the Waterscale was studying Raymora, specifically his paw.   
“Trust me, It's nothing.” he said, trying to mimic Lupin’s voice: calm and confident. From Natkual’s reaction, he knew he had failed but the dragon did not ask any more questions, allowing Raymora to slip back into the city.   
On a normal day, the frost dragon would’ve loved to wander around the city, talking to the shopkeeper, (even though none of them seemed interested in talking to a dragon), sometimes he would even help some people with their preparations for Fyriz. However, today he was not able to spare any more time, he needed to reach the guild before anyone else noticed his mark.  
Raymora hurried through the crowds, keeping his paw concealed. For once he was grateful that people didn’t like dragons, for they moved aside giving him scornful looks. In the distance, he could see the large castle-like structure that was the Guildhall.   
The Guildhall was the heart of the city and the main reason people from all over the world traveled to Nivern. For many, just like Raymora, the great marbled towers and lavish hallways are the first step to a grand adventure.   
Rows of pristine silvery archways lead the path towards the massive golden doors that served as the entrance into the hall. A beautiful flower garden laid on each side, flowers of all different colors sung happily under the bright sun. Underneath the arches, was six stone sculptures, each representing famous adventurers. Everytime Raymora leaves the hall, he looks upon the statues and tries to imagine himself standing bravely on that pedestal. Granted, there had never been a famous dragon adventurer before since most dragons find exploring to be a waste of time. Nevertheless, Raymora is determined to be the first dragon to have his own spot among the greats.   
People flooded the main hall of the building, as always Raymora had to be conscious to not smack anyone with his large wings, which he kept neatly folded on his back. Life at the guild was something that he had to adjust to, after all back in the dragon tribes people knew how to avoid colliding with the wings of others, but here there weren't as many winged species.   
Light from the skylight warmed the grand hall, the central room of the Guildhall. Large colorful tapestries covered the walls, beautiful murals of great adventures and discoveries. It was a wide room with many corridors sectioning off the separate wings of the guild. On one side was the residential/recreational area and on the other was the library and training yard. The end of the hall would lead into another space, not as large as the grand hall but equally exquisite, which served as the mission room.   
While Raymora stood in the center of the room, debating if he should inform the Guildmaster of his adventure or head to his quarters to get some respite, he looked up at the massive statue that loomed in front of him. Almost as tall as the hall itself, and taking up almost all of the middle section of the room stood a massive griffin, the one who stopped the Bloodharbor war many years ago, and founder of the adventure guild: Zerin.   
The stone griffin stood fiercely, his wings spread out and an intense snarl flowed through his face. Bright sapphires stood as his eyes, and the white marble base created his body. From his posture, standing with an arm raised to the sky and one talon stepping on a rock; he looked majestic and elegant. In Raymora’s opinion, he did not look like the type of bird that would stop a war, not to mention starting a guild.  
Still, no one knew much about him. Raymora was pretty sure he read every book on the original Guildmaster, and still didn’t know anything about him. Most of the time, history only records the actions of the people, not the people themselves.  
Raymora noticed that he was being watched. Slowly turning from the statue, he saw that a few people who were standing on the side were staring at him. It was strange, most people at the guild didn’t care that he was a dragon; the guild was the only place he felt normal. Something wasn’t right, he thought as he glanced at his paw to make sure his mark and any light coming from it was hidden-which it was.   
Not wanting to draw anymore attention to himself, he gave a friendly smile and walked to the library. No one from the hall followed him, but the corridors were filled with life as they always tended to be. He had hoped people would just ignore him, which they did but not in a respectful way. As he approached the library, a young canine couple who were talking about their next assignment fell silent as he walked past them, the duo even taking a few steps back from the dragon.   
With one foot in the door, he decided enough was enough. “Why is everyone looking at me like that?” he demanded, accidently sounding a lot more threatening than he intended. “Er, I mean if you don’t mind telling me that is” he added softly.   
With another step back, Raymora could see he startled the couple, the blue furred beagle started to speak but choked on his words. Finally, his girlfriend broke the silence. “Sorry! Please forgive us, everyone’s just on edge right now, especially when it comes to dragons,” she said quickly, catching the beagle’s shaking paw with her own which seemed to calm him down.   
“There was an anocument that dragons have been seen on the edges of Terravis, rows of troops,” he gasped, keeping an eye on Raymora’s snout as if he was thinking of a way to avoid a sudden breath attack. “It looks like they are going to war.”  
Raymora gasped and his mind filled with a sudden burst of throughs and questions. Did they think he was a spy, an advance scout? He figured it would be best to find out later, maybe if he had time he would ask the Guildmaster about it. Thanking the couple for clearing things up, he walked continued to the library, hearing a sigh of relief from the begal.  
Not only did Raymora love to write, but reading was another passion of his. So naturally the Guild’s library was his favorite place in the entire city. Rows of bookshelves surrounded the room, two floors each separating fiction and nonfiction. Tables placed within the center of the room, children and adults alike, reading exciting stories of adventure and fantasy. The top floor was circular, having an overhead with railings that also had tables. The top floor was mostly adults, scholars doing research for their school projects or to satisfy their demand for knowledge.   
Raymora was relieved to see that no one even looked up from their book, nor gave him the slightest of glances as he walked in. The power of reading overseeds common prejudice the dragon guessed   
On the other hand, he did wonder what all the talk about dragon’s going to war was. His sister Drova, who had a very elevated position within the council, explained that in order for the dragon tribes to go to war, the entire council of scales would have to reach a unanimous decision, and that it was more likely to meet a sensible raven than that ever happening (Raymora shuttered at the thought of the raven and tired to think of a better analogy). To put his worries aside, he reaches the conclusion that the dragon’s are just doing some training drills.  
He knew what he was looking for would be towards the top of the area, but he didn’t want to spend any more time looking for that book. Keeping his left paw hidden, he walked towards the Librarian.   
Manix has been the librarian ever since Raymora joined the guild. The crimson colored locust never spoke much, but there are rumors that he was once revered crime lord in the lands of Fyriz. Raymora wasn’t sure if he believed those stories, not once does he remember Manix raising his voice above a whisper.   
The locust was filling some paperwork for some new books, careful with his sharp mandibles to not break the smearstone, a narrow cylinder stone that rubs off against anything that comes into contact with it, the typical tool for writers. He didn’t notice the dragon he stood over his desk.   
Normally, Raymora would wait patiently before asking for something. He knew that Manix was very busy and hated to disturb him from his work. Even today, he still felt bad disrupting the old locust.   
“Excuse me, may I ask you a question,” he said, tapping his claws on the wooden desk. For a moment Manix didn’t react, muttering under his breath about needing more work space. The dragon asked again, adding a little more volume to his voice. This was successful as Manix looked up.  
“What is it,” he barked but not unkindly. His voice did not show his irritation, but his eyes clearly showed he was annoyed at the dragon’s disruption. Gently placing his papers into a neat stack, he turned to face Raymora.   
“I was wondering if you had any books on,” he paused mid sentence, debating if it really was a good idea to be asking for this. On the one hand, asking for this information might sound suspicious, judging from the reaction of the guildmaster a few years back. For all he knew, the Matriarch could be something really dangerous. Then again, it could just be a children’s tale and there would be no harm in asking for it. “The Matriarch?” he added, almost in a whisper.   
The liberian raised his head as if he was confused at this request, but he didn’t press for any answers. Sliding back, he starts to rummage through different catalogs, using his mandibles to search through two sections at once. The locust had full control over his appendages, his ability to multitask must have been the main reason he had gotten his position.   
Raymora waited at the desk, nervously tapping on it with his claws and occasionally looking behind his shoulders to see if anyone else was watching, which there never was. It took nearly all his willpower to refrain from looking at his paw, keeping it hidden at all times. At one point he thought he could see a faint blue glow but realized it was just the reflecting moonlight. Moonlight! How long had he been standing there?  
While he was in the middle of debating if it was a good idea to just leave, Manix finally reached for a log near the upershelf, and buzzed irritably.   
“Legends of the Matriarch, is that what you are looking for,” he asked. Raymora’s face lit up as he inquired if the locust could point out where it was. Manix took an elongated sigh.   
“We have a copy here, but it looks like it’s being held in the archives.” Raymora had expected as much, but he suppressed the growl that had built as he heard it out loud. Trying to keep his composure, he thanked Manix and proceeded out of the library.   
“Of course it would be in the archives,” he muttered, clenching his paws into a fist. Too lost within his sorrow, he didn’t even notice the looks he was getting. He also failed to notice that instead of going to his room like he had intended too, the dragon marched his way towards the front entrance to the archives.   
The ominous, bare black doors of the archives loomed in front of him. For whatever reason, he thought they were mocking him, as if saying “You can’t get in here haha.” From what Raymora had been told, the archive held the Guild’s most dangerous artifacts, cryptic relics that were discovered on different adventures. Only the most elite of adventurers are allowed in there, and they are forbidden from talking about its contents.  
He paced back in front, gazing at the formidable doors that prevent access, pondering why would a book be considered so dangerous. If it was allowed in the library at one point, why bother locking it up? Maybe, he thought, it wasn’t the book itself that was dangerous, but the knowledge that was contained in the book.   
Whatever it was, Raymora knew what he had to do. Ever since he was a whelp, braving the unknown and learning the secrets of his world has been Raymora’s biggest ambition. Behind those doors laid a book, one that could have the answers to explain everything that had just happened to Raymora. And if there was something Raymora hated more than breaking rules, it was being left in the dark without any explanation.  
His plan was simple enough. There was a small supplies closet in the hallway across the archive room. By no means was it large, nor empty but it was big enough for Raymora to slip in and close the door, leaving a small gap for where he could see outside. Every night someone had to check and catalog all the contents of the Archives. When that happens, Raymora was going to use that moment to make his way into the archives.   
With that, he waited.  
And he waited.  
And waited.  
By the time Raymora was sure he had spent over an hour waiting, he started to think that this was a poor idea. But it was too late, for the moment he made the slightest of actions, he heard the sounds of an approaching person.   
He couldn’t help but smile, realizing he had been in this same position just a day ago.   
A small light came down the hallway, the eerie sounds of footsteps drawing closer to Raymora made the dragon shuffle deeper into the closet. For a few moments he was able to catch a glimpse at who was doing tonight's inventory. While dragons can’t see well in the dark, the guard was holding a sparktone, a crystal that emanated a bright light.   
Right in front of the doors, stood a stubborn looking feline. Raymora shuttered in fear, realizing instantly who this person was. While he couldn’t see the fangs, there was only one feline in the entire guild who had a stubby tail and spotted fur: A saber tooth cat named Wyina. Or more commonly known as, the guildmaster.   
He stared at the black doors for a few moments, checking to see if anyone else was near. By some miracle, he completely looked right over Raymora. Once he believed he was alone, Wyina turned back towards the gates. Until this moment, Raymora didn’ t what opened the doors to the room, only that it required something extra.   
Wyina extended his left paw, holding it there for a few moments. He did not move, nor make any noises until Raymora heard him say one thing. “Yalinsain.” The doors did not swing open like Raymora expected, but instead they simply disappeared like they were never there in the first place. And before Raymora could react, Wyina entered the room and as soon as they disappeared, the doors returned to block the path.   
Magic. It was the only explanation for what Raymora had just witnessed. Not just any magic, enchanting magic. He heard legends of spellcrafters so strong they could imbue everyday objects with magical powers. According to legend, it was a dangerous skill, as the crafter has to pay a mortal price for the spell.   
While Raymora tried to remember everything he knew about enchantment magic, he saw the soundless motion of the door phasing away and returning as quickly. The guildmaster did not linger, marching down the corridor towards his room.   
As soon as he was gone, the dragon crept towards the doorway, and stared at it. He knew there had to be a way to open it, a special word or something. Then, he remembered the phrase Wyina used in order to open the door in the first place. He whispered the same word to no effect. Confused, Raymora repeated the word but louder. Once again, the door’s remained still. The guildmaster wasn’t that loud when saying the word, so maybe it wasn’t a matter of volume.   
The hand motion, that must be a part of it, Raymora concluded. Placing his right paw flat against the door, he repeated the word once again.   
Still nothing.   
“Ok, Think Raymora, what did the guildmaster do when he opened this door.” There was no doubt that he was saying the word correctly, and the guildmaster clearly touched the door as he did it. Perhaps there was special marking on the door that he needed to touch but it was too dark for him to see anything. But Raymora wasn’t going to give up, not when the answers were so close. And at that moment, he knew what he had to do.   
He ducked into the halls quickly to make sure that was no one near, even checking places where one could be possibly hiding like he was. Taking a deep breath, he uncovered his left paw. The moment it was brought out from his greeves, the iridescent blue light consumed the room and it was clear that it wouldn’t be long before someone noticed and investigated the strange light.   
“Yalinsain,” he declared, touching the door with his paw. To his surprise, the black barriers dissipated, opening the pathway into the room.   
It worked! Pride swelled within Raymora, he couldn’t believe he had solved his first puzzle. Not letting the moment pass him, he bolted into the room, the doors appearing behind him as soon as he entered.   
Although, he was a little underwhelmed by the near empty room that he worked so hard to get inside of. For one thing, it had no light sources at all, only the glow of his mark provided vision. And another thing, devoid of any personality, it was just a large black room with three pedestals, each holding an object. Two of them were encased in a glass container, while the third object remained free, held on a lavender pillow. Thankfully, the only object that was easily accessible was a large book.   
Golden pages ran through the book, giving a pristine and elegant look to it. There was no mere copy, this book had to be one of a kind. Raymora reached for it, but stopped himself. If this book was out in the open, there might be a magical failsafe that alerted others if he tried to take it. His only option was to read the book here.   
He knew this was the right book, because on the very front cover laid a symbol that was an exact match to the mark on Raymora’s paw. This had to be it. The Legend of the Matriarch.   
Without waiting so much as a second longer, Raymora tore open the book, and read the first page.   
“Warning, this book contains information that should be kept a secret from the common world. To anyone who is reading this, understand that nothing in this book is a work of fiction. Every single letter in this book is deliberate, and every sentence is true…”  
Raymora quickly found himself lost within the depths of the book, soaking in every word he read with clear understanding. Yet, it did him little good. So much of the book was history of the past, and while it did go into greater detail of certain events, most of the things that he read Raymora already knew. Except for when he reached a section named “The Matriarch.”  
“Long ago, after the Revering, magic flourished throughout the land, giving many uncontrollable powers. In order to keep this new found spree of magic contained, something known as the hierarchy was formed. Every cycle, a new Matriarch is chosen, from the following rotation: Fyriz, Aquis, Skyriz, Terravis. A Matriarch can only be someone who is born on the first day of the season, within the lands of their respective element. Also, Each matarich is given a set of sentinels, a set of three people that wield a specific element of their respective Matriarch. Sentinels are to protect the Matriarch with their life.   
But what is a Matriarch?”  
Raymora eagerly turned the page, the truth practically begging him to find it.   
“A Matriarch uses the power of a family of magic. They are neither good nor evil, existing only to keep balance within the world. Each Matriarch is different, using a wide variety of abilities to serve their purpose. But there is one thing that all Matriarchs have in common. Every Matriarch can summon a weapon of divine power, a symbol of new beginning and the end of the old. A scythe of pure magical energies.”  
It was something out of a fantasy novel, Raymora thought. While he was still very confused, he started to believe that being a Matriarch wasn’t a bad thing at all. But that was before he read the final paragraph.   
“Sadly, Matriarchs have failed over the years, in known history there has not been a single Matriarch who had stayed good for their entire life, for at one point in their life, they allowed themselves to be consumed by the powers they held. They are an effigy of evil, and should be destroyed at all cost.”  
Upon reading the last sentence, Raymora stood frozen. He wasn’t evil, he knew that. But if this book was true, does that mean he was destined to hurt people? He fearfully looked at his mark, and clenched his fist.  
“No. I don’t care what legends say. If I am a Matriarch, then I’ll be the first Matriarch ever that didn’t turn evil.” He promised himself.   
While there were no windows leading outside, Raymora knew it late. It was too risky to return to the archives ever again, so he knew once he left he wouldn’t see the book again. Deciding that one more chapter couldn’t hurt, he turned the page.   
It was just one page on the right hand side, ominously labeled “Variauna’s deadliest spellcrafter.  
“Not much is known about the Shadowtalon, except for his otherworldly abilities. If you’ve ever heard of the Shadowtalon, you may have heard that he is able to see the future, read minds, and has a mastery over Arcanum magic. These are all true. If you are unfortunate enough to cross paths with him, listen carefully to what he has to say. For it is the only chance of your survival. Reader, please heed these words well: Do not underestimate the raven whose feathers are as black as night, fear the bird of the burning violet eyes and do not ignore the grim calling’s of the creature of the night. On the next page is a photograph of the Shadowtalon. If you see this bird, understand one thing. Anyone who has ever laid eyes on the Raven of fright, will be changed forever in the dark of the night.”  
The dragon hesitated, because he already knew who the text was referring too. With shaking hands, he slowly turns the page.   
And clear on the page, illuminated by the light of his mark, was a vivid picture of the raven from the sparkling cave.   
Then, the ground began to shake.


	8. Sounds of War

The Sounds of War  
By Raymora Mayven  
The shaking wouldn’t stop, what started as a small tremor quickly grew into a violent storm. For whatever reason, Raymora found himself outside, in a hellstrom of burning buildings and lost within a sea of corpses. His vision was hazy and distorited, like he was watching this take place through a veil of water. Nevertheless, one thing was clear: the village was under attack.   
It was ominously silent  
To his left, he could see the clear ruins of the guildhall, the once majestic structure reduced to nothing but ash. A pile of bone and fur littered the floor, from people Raymora once may have known. He didn’t know how he got here, or how everything happened so fast. What he did know was that he shouldn’t be standing so still. Yet, no matter what he told himself, how much his body tried to run, he couldn’t move himself one bit.   
“Help,” he screamed but if anyone heard him, they made no response. He couldn’t see anyone else, anyone alive that is. Burned and mutilated bodies were his only companions.  
Abruptly, that world seemed to fade away, and a new scene took its place.   
Raymora was in a small house, everything was still blurry so he couldn’t quite make out the details of his location, nor the strange dragon looking silhouette that stood beside him. It brandished a sharp silver knife, and crept up to Raymora., who was distracted by the massacre outside. While he could not see the danger that slowly crawled it’s way to him, he knew it was there. He knew that it was reaching behind him, he knew that it had opened his maw to say something-even if no words could be heard- and he felt the cold embrace of death as the blade plunged into his own heart.   
He was startled awake, stumbling backwards onto his wings. His heart was racing, hammering his chest as cold sweat ran down his body. Shaking vigorously, he tried to calm his breaths to no avail. A sense of panic ran across his body as he swiftly checked his body for any signs of injuries, but found none.   
As a matter of fact, he found no signs of what he just saw. There were no new injuries on his body, the ground was still and the air was calm. Whatever he had just seen, didn’t happen.   
Yet.   
He didn’t know why he thought so, and the idea sounded crazy in his own mind, but he was convinced he had witnessed a vision of the future. Even just thinking about it, he felt as if he was losing his own mind.   
In all of Variauna there was only one species that held such mystical powers. Everyone knows that the only species that can read minds or predict the future is the mysterious ravens. More feared than the dragons, ravens are exiled from their own homelands, the Windlands.   
Before all this, Raymora didn’t believe any of those stories. Most dragons didn’t, for they didn’t want to believe that any race was stronger or had more powers than them. So he grew up believing that the raven’s were a bunch of lunatics that wandered away from their homelands, casting fear on to the other species.   
That was what he believed since he was a whelp.  
That was what he believed before he met the Shadowtalon. After reading about the shadowtalon, and comparing it to what he remembered from their previous encounter; Raymora fully believed that ravens do in fact have mystical powers.   
“And now the most dangerous raven in the entire world is after me.”  
Blue iridescent light simmiered from his mark, a light that he no longer tried to hide. There was no point in trying to deny that he was the Matriarch. And if that really was a vision of the future, he knew what he had to do.   
A gasp of surprise echoed through the walls as Raymora turned to see that the book was gone. In its place was a lone note that read, “It has begun.”  
It’s message was loud and clear.   
Raymora dashed towards the door and loudly exclaimed the opening phrase, and without taking a moment to hide his mark, he sprinted throughout the corridors of the Guildhall. Small sparkstones on poles illuminated the empty halls, but the yellow light they gave was quickly hidden under the overwhelming vibrance of his mark.   
Out past the library, strafing around the statue and diving right into the Meeting hall, Raymora stumbles into the luxurious residence of Guildmaster Wyrina, who was occupied talking to Captain Orlin.   
He startled both of them, Orlin drawing his blade and immediately moved in between the now panting dragon and Wyrina, with the guildmaster only giving him a concerned looked.   
“Guildmaster, you have to listen to me,” he started, picking himself off the floor and facing Wyrina. “You need to start evacuating the town and prepare the defense because,” Raymora’s words started to mix together, forming a tangle of sounds. Nevertheless, he had managed to say the words incoming and attack.   
Wyrina shoved past his guard and placed both his paws upon the dragon’s shoulders, forcing him to make eye contact. “Calm down, you are making as much sense as a raven!” He closed his paws around Raymora’s snout, and added, “When I let go, you will calmly tell me what is going on.”  
Raymora nodded in agreement, then after a deep breath, explained the vision he had and what he saw.   
“Ok, now you’re talking like a raven. What do you mean by ‘vision of the future’,” Wryina inquired, looking more annoyed than alarmed. Two pale fangs hung out from his mouth, a safe distance away from Raymora but nonetheless frightening.   
With a gulp, Raymora brandished his left paw, presenting the mark for everyone to see. For the next moment, everything was silent, Orlin standing dumbfounded while a snarl crept upon Wyrina’s feline snout.   
“Just like the prophecy,” the canine muttered, backing away from Raymora, eyes fixed up on the blue mark. “You’re...you are the wings of darkness from the prophecy. The Matriarch of Aquis.” he said, not as a question but as a fact.   
Before Raymora could answer, he felt a powerful force hit him on the back of his head. Slumping to the ground, he realized that Wyrina had circled around him smacked up upon head.

“I don’t think that was a good idea, according to the prophecy, this dragon could be our salvation,” said Orlin, slightly alarmed at the guildmaster’s sudden outburst.   
“Oh for Terra’s sake Orlin, don’t tell me you believe those children's stories of mighty scythe wielding heroes and cryptic prophecies?” Wyrina barked, glancing at Raymora, who was confused as ever.   
He didn’t like anyone thinking of him as evil, it doesn’t matter what the book said about him, Raymora knew himself well and he knew that he wasn’t evil. “Please, we don’t have time for this-I don’t know about any prophecy but I do know that in a few moments, we are going to be attacked-,” he tried to interject.  
The saber tooth fell to one knee, picking Raymora up with one paw and extending a very sharp claw towards his neck with the other. “Shut your maw lizard. I never trusted you, from the day you joined this guild I knew something was up. A dragon seeking a life of adventure? Bah! I know what you are?” he snapped, face glowing with frustration. A shadow of fear crossed his eyes. He was scared of something, could he be scared of Raymora? It didn’t seem possible, Raymora wasn’t very menacing, apart from being a dragon of course.   
With another deep breath, Wyrina continued his rant. “You’re a spy. It's common knowledge that the dragons have been planning to conquer the lands of Terravis forever now. Greedy little whelps they are, can’t be content with owning a small portion of every kingdom, I mean they even have their own sky kingdom!”  
“No! This isn’t about the dragons, trust me something really bad is going to happen unless we-,” Raymora started, only to have his maw clamped together by Wyrina’s large paws.   
“ I don’t want to hear anymore lies. Tell me, spy, what did they tell you? How much do they know. You better be honest, or I’ll tear off your wings and use them for my drinks.”   
Orlin cleared his throat, tugging on the guildmasters tail softly. A terribly rude gesture, for anyone other than the Captain of the guard himself. “If there was to be an attack,” he began, tilting his head at Raymora, “Regardless of who is behind it, we should not waste this time and prepare our defenses.” A definite aura of command surrounded the caine, adding to his already commanding stature.   
For a moment, the guildmaster looked as if he was going to kill Raymora on the spot, but must have decided against it. He scoffed and pulled away, turning to face Orlin who now looked more focused than ever.   
On the other hand, Wyrina did not look as convinced. “Why bother. There is no doubt that this is some trick the dragons came up with in order to put us on edge.” for a moment he glared at Raymora. “A pitiful one at that. Seeing the future? Matriarch? Dragons are far to stupid for their own good. Funny, all that power and not the brains to use it.” he mocked, ignoring Orlin’s concerning glare.   
“My lord, if there was even the slightest chance that he is telling the truth, we could all be in danger.” Hearing Orlin call Wyrina lord was a bit strange, as he was the last person anyone would expect to take orders.   
But before Wyrina could say anything else, Raymora was overwhelmed by a burst of emotions, a deathly haze of orange and red took over his sight. There was no doubt what was going on, he was experiencing another vision.   
It was the same as before, burning buildings, rotten corpses and pools of blood all within the same soundless erie night. He still couldn’t move, but felt his fear rising and controlling his every thought. Even though he knew this was a vision, it surely didn’t feel like one.   
Quicker than before, the scene changed and he was back within that house. The world was not made of lines, colors mixed together to create a world of distortion. Raymora tensed, knowing that in the next moment or so he would be impaled by the sharp knife and the vision would end.   
When reality came back to him, Raymora found himself curled into a fetal position on the floor, covered in sweat with tears rolling down his snout and gasping for air. An eerie blue light filled the room, coming from Raymora’s mark. Instinctively he moved to cover it, only then remembering the two people who stood, watching raymora completely confused.   
They stared at him, both watching the bright mark upon his paw. Wyrina held a soundless growl on his face, taking an aggressive stance as if he was going to lung at the dragon. On the other hand, Orlin stood with fierce dignity and slowly reached for his blade.   
Raymora seized the moment to compose himself, standing up elegantly and wiping the sweat off his brow. He planned his next words carefully as this would be his last chance to convince them he was on their side. Once again he held his left paw at head level, their eyes drawn to it like moths to a lantern. Now that he had their attention, it was time for the next step.   
“I am Raymora Mayven, frost dragon of the winterlands, and Matriarch of Aquis,” he stuttered, his confidence draining as soon as he opened his maw. In truth, he didn’t know what he actually said, but he was sure he got close enough. Without taking another breath, he continued on. “If I’m being honest, I still don’t understand what being the Matriarch means, so far the only thing that seems different is this mark and some strange powers.”  
“But I do know that I just witnessed a vision of the future. A future we cannot avoid. So please listen to me when I say that-” A blood curdling scream cuts through the air, echoing through the town, followed by the sounds of cannon fire.   
Barrages of cannon fire pound the guildhall exterior walls, rumbling through the ground and nearly knocking Raymora to the ground. After a violent struggle, he had managed to keep standing, only then realizing the smell of harsh smoke.   
“Damn it, looks like the dragon was right. Orlin, you take the front lines, I’ll help evacuate the villages.” Wyrina commanded, completely ignoring Raymora’s presence. Orlin nodded as the guildmaster bolted out of the room, and started to follow.   
But first, the vertern canine looked to the dragon, who was still in shock from the sounds of war around him. “If only we had listened to you the first time, maybe we could have been better prepared. Whoever is attacking us, and for your sake you better hope it isn’t dragons, clearly came prepared.” He drew his blade and began out the door when Raymora stopped him.   
“What are you going to do with me?” the dragon asked sheepishly.  
Orlin didn’t turn to face him, instead he scoffed and replied “I don’t care. If you really are the Matriarch, I won’t be able to stop you.” he paused for a moment, his tail lowering to the floor as he said “Listen to me well, you may have not heard it but there is a prophecy foretelling the return of the Matriarchs.”  
“As with all prophecies, it is very vague about what that actually entails. One understanding is that the Matriarch has returned to save the world, while others say it is a sign of calamity, destruction.” To Raymora’s surprise, Orlin turned around and stared at him. His muzzle was dropped and he was sad.   
“From what I’ve heard, Matriarchs have unbelievable powers. Nevertheless, if you turn out to be evil, I will try to stop you. Beware the path you chose, for it will change everyone.” And with that, he ran off into the battle, leaving Raymora with his own thoughts.   
Which weren’t very helpful in his current situation. Here he was, a dragon standing in the middle of a battlefield unarmed and slight combat experience. Right now, his best chance was to ignore his overwhelming thoughts, and sneak out of this city alive.   
Crawling out of a broken window, he left in such a rush he didn’t factor in the shards of broken glass, which notified him of their existence as soon as he crawled across them.   
Repressing a whimper, he pushes himself outside onto the rough ground of the city, ground made black from the ashes of burning buildings.   
The battle sounded fierce, shouting and distant cannon fire bombarded Raymora’s eyes. Even though he was scared, he needed to keep moving, using his own determination to fuel his advancement.   
Twice within two days, Raymora finds himself running away.   
Raymora still wasn’t sure who was attacking the city, he prayed to Aquis that it wasn’t dragons. If the dragons decided to attack, it could result in a very bloody war.   
As he was forcing himself throughout the streets of the burning town, he saw two winged shadows creep behind him.   
“Hey, where ya think you goin’?” one of them called, in a very light almost childest voice.   
Don’t be dragons, Raymora thought, stopping in his tracks.   
“Why don’t cha turn around, let ma see that pretty face of ya whelp.” said the other one, a clear difference in their voice as this one was female.   
For the love of Aquis, don’t be dragons, Raymora screamed in his mind, gulping as he slowly turned around.   
Good news, it wasn’t dragons.   
Bad news, standing directly in front of him were two black hide locusts, carrying crimson bladed swords.


	9. The Adventure Begins

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Whatever, I should've been an artist instead of a writer tbh.

TFH: 8, The Adventure Begins.   
By Raymora Mayven  
The dragon stared at his attackers, two red tinted locust with long crescent like blades held out to him. Raymora knew he didn’t stand a chance against them, locust were brutal warriors, hailing from the volcanic lands of Fyriz. In that region, only the strongest survived; only the greatest of warriors or adventures would dare to travel to such a place.  
A slight grim relief washed over him. This was a locust raid, something that happens all the time within Terravis. He wasn’t sure what he would have thought if the dragons had actually decided to go to war. With that fear out of the way, his only problem was the two blood lusting locust that stood before him.   
Shorter than he was- twice as menacing- their crimson blades shined under the light of the burning fires, tattered wings and rugged leather only added to the tough exterior they clearly presented. Each displayed a sinister smile, and a hint of interest.   
“A dragon? Heh, we don’t be seeing many of you ‘round these lands,” gawked the smaller one. The four insect wings on her back fluttered into a threatening position, somehow making her look bigger than she was.   
Next to her, equally as excited stood the other locust.”Ooh, I wonda what thay taste like? I heard dragon are supe’ delicious.” With his tone of voice, it was impossible to tell if he was joking.   
His ally sneered and made some strange clicking noise with her mouth, menacingly flexing her sharp weapon weapon, which Raymora now realized was her mandibles; instead of normal swords made of steel these locusts used their own bodies instead.   
Battle surrounded the narrow streetway, the cannon fire seemed to have ceased as the roaring of clashing armies took its place. With no one to help him, the dragon’s options were very limited.   
Sharp crimson mandibles were extended towards Raymora, the locusts eyeing their prey with hostile intent. “Hold up!.” he gasped, a little more softly than he had intended. “This doesn’t have to be this way, no one has to get hurt here.”  
One of the locusts tilted her head in confusion, then turned to her partner. “Woah, te whelp as’ da fancy mark.” she clicked. The one beside her nodded his head and returned her expression of confusion.   
“Corret me if I be wrong, but I don’t remember te boss bein’ blue. Tis one’ being a imposta’.”   
“Yea, but te boss migt wanna know bout him, may be if we show te boss, he might let us hav’ eats.”  
Their language was a broken and distorted form of common, combined with their heavy accent Raymora wasn’t sure if he had heard them right, but he knew enough to understand he was not safe. But with fear paralyzing his entire body, he had no way of escape. “I’m really sorry about this, please forgive me.” he stuttered, taking a slight step forward.   
Narrowing his vision so he could focus on the enemies, Raymora desperately tried to recall last night. He knew the only way he would stand a chance against them was if he managed to summon the scythe from the cave. And for the first in what felt like his entire life, he remembered the exact scene vividly.  
Left foot in front, right one back and a slight turn on his body left him in the same position he was last time he summoned the blade. The lips along Raymora’s snout curled into a sharp scowl and displayed his sharp fangs, trying his best to look intimidating.   
A split second of silence washed over the three, shattered by the sounds of fluttering wings and footsteps storming across the soft ground. The locus rushed towards Raymora, mandibles drawn and ready for a fight.   
But something was wrong. Just like before, Raymora raised his paw into the sky, but he felt nothing. There was no power, no glowing energy around him. He reached for power, but received nothing. It was impossible to hide his shock as he stared at the two Locust that were inches in front of him.  
Crimson mandibles flung their way towards Raymora’s wings and legs, aiming to incapacitate the dragon. Fear pushed through him, but he wasn’t strong enough to run.   
The shorter locust was a lot more nimble than her partner, she reached Raymora in the blind of an eye, a pleased smile upon her face. Her mouth clicked a few times before she raised her blade, taking a wide swing at him.   
Raymora ducked below her blade, surprising her with a kick to her legs. His theory was correct though she didn’t fall like he expected it was enough to break her stance. However the locust quickly recovered, and attempted another strike.   
This time she had the upper hand, without another plan Raymora was caught off guard. Her blade was aimed towards his arms, she wanted to incapacitate him not kill him. But before Raymora could feel the piercing sting of bone a sharp icicle emerged from the locust’s chest.   
All she was able to do was let loose a single shriek before her body fell lifelessly on Raymora.   
“Gah, whear tid tat come from?” her ally gasped, converging his claws closer to his chest and carefully looked around. “Yal pay for that, by Fyiz’s blades I’ll show ya pain.” he declared through his gritted teeth.   
Not even Raymora was sure what just happened, except that it wasn’t his doing. The icicle had to have been created by magic, and at this current moment Raymora’s magic is a bit lacking. Which meant that whoever had killed the locust, had to be a spellcrafter.   
Out of his sight, Raymora heard the startled gasp of the locust raider, followed by the thump of a body crumpling to the ground. Using his common sense, he stayed as still as he could. There was no proof that this was a friend. However, his plan would prove to be ineffective once the corpse was thrown off of him.   
By the gills of Aquis, standing as Raymora’s savior, stood Natkual, the only other dragon in the entire city.   
“Natkual!” Raymora exclaimed. The waterscale helped Raymora to his feet, checking him for any serious injuries.  
“Thank Aquis that you are alive Raymora, The Crimson Mandibles are not known for taking prisoners.” he stated, checking his back for any other potential dangers. For the moment, all was calm. The waterscale looked far more focused and alert than normal, blue magical residue glowed off his body. As he helped Raymora take his feat, the younger dragon noticed that Natkual took an extended gaze at his mark, but didn’t say anything about it.   
“What’s going on? Why are the locusts here?” Raymora gasped. While he felt safer with the older dragon protecting him, the shock of battle still managed within his mind. Even with his basic military training, and countless adventures, this was the first time Raymora had ever watched another sentient die.   
Nevertheless, unless Raymora wanted to join the fallen locusts he needed to get moving. Now was not the time for remorse. Natkual, who didn’t seem concerned at all about the lives he had just taken, understood this well. “This is not the time for questions, come on.” the dragon said.  
There was no arguing against that. The elder dragon spread his greenish wings and launched himself into the sky, hovering above Raymora. “Let’s go, we have to get out of here before any more see you.” His voice gave signs of panic that his body did not display, a type of bravery that Raymora respected.   
However, he bit the lower part of his snout and embarrassment took hold. “What are you waiting for?” Natkual growled.   
“I...I don’t know how to fly.” he squealed, feeling both ashamed and embarrassed. Natkual was the only other dragon Raymora knew outside the tribes, the last thing Raymora wanted was to make himself seem like more of a whelp.   
Emotions flickered through Natkual, along with a rather creative display of aggravation. He looked as if he was having an internal struggle, one of more concern than the battle that surrounded them. Whatever it was, he showed no signs of telling Raymora what it was. Instead, he landed next to the dragon and began further down the alley way.   
Just like Raymora’s vision, death surrounded them drowning everything in a sea of fire and corpses. But he knew this wasn’t a vision, everything he could see was really happening. The word terrifying didn’t do it justice, even though Raymora was a writer with a large vocabulary in his mind, there wasn’t a single word that could describe what he felt, what he saw all around him.  
Fantasy books, stories of war were nothing to first hand experience. These locusts didn’t attack with a strategy or any moral right. They charged in with their hordes slaughtering guards and villagers alike. An endless amount of them flooded the streets, delivering brutal strikes that could leave even the strongest warrior in half. Raymora remembered reading tales about Locust, their raids always left a bloody mess in their wake. And only one thing kept Raymora from joining the fallen.   
After every single adventure, every time Raymora left the city, he made sure to do one thing. Natkual didn’t seem like the type of dragon that could handle himself in such a dire situation. He looked old, frial and gentle. Never once did Raymora look at the waterscale and think this was a dragon who maintained his composure under the crushing weight of fear.   
Standing brave in the face of danger was never something Raymora could do. He left the military because he hated fighting, he wanted to avoid warfare at all costs. It was something to be admired, such a selfless soul risking his own life to save someone. If Raymora survived this, he knew he’d write Natkual a very special story displaying his gratitude.   
Of course Raymora wished they could’ve saved more people, there was no doubt that Natkual was a powerful mage. Sadly, at this point there was way more locust than anything else; escape was their only option.   
They stuck near the walls of the buildings, creeping through merchant stalls and over creating unused rations. Raymora kept himself from panicking by focusing on Natkual, who at this point was his only hope of survival. Just like the cave, freaking out wasn’t going to do anything.   
As long as they were weary of their wings and tail it wasn’t much of a problem to hide in the shadows of the warfare. Most of the attention was focused on the remaining guardsmen, who at this point were starting to fall back in retreat. Raymora couldn’t help but notice the lack of spellcrafters, and wondered if Natkaul would have turned the tides.   
“They are dying out there Natkaul, you have to do something?” he whispered. Ignoring his plea, the older dragon continued into another alleyway, one untouched by the locust. Natkaul was leading them towards the southern exit, hoping to escape towards the flatlands.   
Raymora tried again to no avail. For a brief moment both of them stopped and Raymora hoped that Natkual was considering helping. However, Raymora followed gaze to the massive hoard of locust standing at the southern exit; even if he could fly they would never make it past the archers that lined the walls stopping any attempts at escape.  
Both hunched down behind some crates of fresh produce. Raymora watched as his protector desperately surveyed the field. Natkaul’s worry started to grow, which seemed strange to Raymora as he thought a spellcrafter wouldn’t have much to fear. After all, couldn’t he just make a spell that could blind the locust or something?   
“Gr, Walker’s breath,” Nakaul cursed. He did a quick scan of the area, growling as he found no clear points of escape. “I’m trapped,” he muttered quietly, like he didn’t want Raymora to hear him.   
“No we’re not!” Raymora exclaimed, peering his head over the boxes. “I don’t really know how mage works, but maybe you could blind them? That way we could-” Natkual grabbed Raymora by his wings and pulled him down. In no way was he gentle about it either, bruising Raymora’s elbow as it smacked into the ground. He started at Natkual in shock, even more when he saw that Natkual did not show signs of regret.   
“Keep your frosted head down.” he barked. Something was wrong with his friend, but for the time being Raymora just assumed it was survival instincts taking over him. Then again, Natkual didn’t seem to worry about being spotted. In fact, there was a group of locusts looking right at him, and yet they made no reaction.   
With struggle still clear on his face, he said, “Use that window and get inside that house, wait for me there and don’t you dare leave. I won’t be long.” This order didn’t make much sense to him, for the house lead back into the city, but at this point Raymora figured it would be best to follow the more experienced dragon’s order.  
The only way into the small home was through the window, which was thankfully opened. Raymora obediently followed Natkual’s command, crawling his way into the house without being seen as the window was hidden via another tall stack of boxes.   
Inside, the house was practically untouched. Raymora knew this would change, after all the locust were known for not leaving anything standing, alive or inanimate. For now however, it provides some form of haven. Strangely, he couldn’t shake the feeling that he had been here before.  
Nothing looked familiar, the shelves were lined with fancy vases, a small kitchen tucked away in the corner of the house and the living area dressed with eloquent rugs and drapes all across the room. Whoever lived here was clearly a successful business owner. He hoped they were safe at the very least, but he couldn’t imagine how tough it might have been to leave behind your home.   
Apart from his family’s home back in the winterlands, Raymora never really had a home. His room in the Guildhall was temporary at best, only a place to gain some respite after every adventure. Losing it isn’t the biggest loss for him, and to be completely honest Raymora isn’t the type to settle down for a quiet and permanent living.   
Living, what a forgin term, he grimly thought.  
Taking a moment to still his breathing, Raymora wanders around the house waiting for Natkual. The sounds of combat started to die out, at this point most of the guards have either fled or died. He couldn’t help but wonder what happened to Wyrina, or Orlin. They were strong fighters, but sometimes numbers overcome the strong.  
Instead of worrying about the fate of the city, he tried to discover the source of his deja vu. With such a grand display of wealth, Raymora was sure he would recognize this place, yet he didn’t. It wasn’t like what he felt at the sparking cave, there he felt welcomed and warranted.  
Here, the only thing he felt was a slight fear, one that wasn’t caused by the locust outside. Raymora had formed a new habit of looking at his mark whenever things get confusing. Nothing was different about it’s shifting blue glow, holding dangerous secrets that could potentially bring destruction to everything in this world.   
But how could that be? Was this really a mark of calamity, after all it did try to warn him of this attack. Albeit if it gave him more time he might have the chance to convince the guildmaster of his benevolent intentions.   
And the idea of a prophecy? For all his life he was told that prophecies were just a trick made up by ravens to scare the other races into doing their work. On that same hand however, his draconic teachers also said that raven’s were nothing more than manipulative avians who posed no danger to dragons. It was laughable how wrong they were, because even now-among all the death and destruction-the Shadowtalon stood as Raymora’s darkest fear.   
There was no sign of Natkual, battle still roared outside but it was the sounds of retreat and crushing advances of the locust’s endless assault. Raymora hated feeling so helpless, it struck him harder knowing he had the means to stop this, but he failed. Nevertheless, failure wasn’t something Raymora took lightly, and at that very moment he decided if it was his destiny to become the Matarich, he would wield his powers for good, not evil.   
His moment of self determination was torn asunder as he realized where he was standing. In an instant he could vividly remember the end of his vision, the moment where he was stabbed in the back by a strange figure. This was the house where it happened, the next person he saw was the one that was going to kill him, unless Raymora did something about it.   
Just as Raymora tried to quickly think of a plan, he heard the deathly sound of the main door creaking open. ‘Why can’t you warn me just a little bit earlier,” he snarled and turned to meet his would-be-killer.   
To his grim surprise, standing at the door was not a locust like Raymora had expected. Instead, Natkual gave him a concerned look. “Is something wrong?” the dragon asked and continued towards Raymora.


	10. Chapter 9

Chapter 9: Betrayal  
Raymora Mayven  
He remembered the day so vividly, stalking the outer streets of the city. It was one of his more darker days, a day where it felt like nothing was going his way. Those days were rather uncommon for the dragon; Raymora has a way of always finding the good in the worst. Yet upon that day Raymora felt very lonely. There wasn’t anything he could do about that, not many people outside of the guild were willing to hang out with a dragon, especially with the rumors of an upcoming war running about.   
While many other species are prideful of their race, Raymora did not feel the same for his fellow dragons. What was there to love about being a race that is known for starting wars, and constant infighting. Only reason people don’t hate the dragons as much as they despise the locust is because dragons stay to themselves for the most part. Still, Raymora has yet to meet anyone who doesn’t see him as a spy.  
Before he met Natkual, he felt disconnected from the everyday townspeople of the city, as well as distant from his own draconic family. Admittedly, Raymora started to rethink whether he had made the right choice in leaving his homeland. So it was nice meeting another dragon, someone who he didn’t have to explain why he wasn’t a spy and such.   
Ever since then, Raymora had made it part of his routine to talk to Natkual after every adventure. From him, he learned so much about the political side of the dragons. Raymora’s sister, Drova, would always tell her brother how much of a mess the Council was, but because of certain rules she wasn’t able to elaborate; Natkual, on the other hand, did not care about Council rules and restrictions, as he left that life behind him.   
Natkual provided so much to Raymora, someone to talk when things got rough. Years of talking to him, and he considered the elder dragon more than just another dragon, but a true friend to Ray. Even now, when the city has fallen to chaos and Raymora’s story was pages away from the final letter, Natkual risked his life to save him.   
It was hard to believe that the dragon Raymora had trusted the most, even with his own life, would betray him for seemingly no reason. While his vision did foretell of the attack, everything was so hazy at this point. Maybe someone else would follow Natkual, and that would be the one to attack Raymora.   
Something told him that he was wrong; a strong burning sensation within him knew something he did not want to admit.   
“The guards are issuing a full retreat,” Natkual explained as he closed the door behind him. “The locust swarms will be all over the city soon, if that happens it’ll be impossible to escape.” Raymora noticed that Natkual muttered the last sentence as if he was talking more to himself. Something was bothering him; obviously the stress of the situation was taking a toll on the elder dragon, but there was something else to his clear discomfort.   
Still, whether Natkual planned to harm Raymora or not, it made for quite the dilemma. Surely Raymora wouldn’t stand a chance against the much stronger, wiser and far more advanced Spellcrafter that Natkual was. Confronting him was a horrible idea, not to mention there was a chance that Natkual wasn’t going to harm him in the first place. But the other option of trusting Nakual had its own dangers.   
In truth, there seemed to be no clear answer, only Raymora knew that no matter the case, he would not let the fear show.   
Natkual folded his wings and did a quick search of the room, Raymora couldn’t help but notice the dragon glanced at him every so often. “I-We need to make it out of here before any more Locust show up.” he informed Raymora, concluding his search.  
By this point Raymora had managed to suppress his fears of the Locust, danger was nothing new to him of course. The only thing that really concerned Raymora, apart from his friend betraying him, was being so close to death. He knew that was wrong, the only thing he should be focused on was his own survival.   
If things had been different, if Raymora had been stronger or more skilled, he would’ve been out there, helping as many people as he could. Maybe, just maybe if he knew how to use the powers of the Matriarch, this entire day could’ve gone so much differently. Or would it have? The ideal outcome would’ve been no violence at all, but with a species as bloodthirsty as the Locust, was peace ever an option? Raymora started to doubt if a flashy scythe would’ve changed anything.   
Suddenly, the house began to shake as the sounds of cannon fire resumed. The sudden shock of it caused Raymora to jump as he rushed towards the window. Smoke filled the sky as unseen cannons tore down everything in the town. Locust were never known for conquest, only destruction. “By the wings of Aquis, they are destroying everything! We have to move-”. He cut off his own sentence, a horrible sensation washed throughout him. Following his instincts, he swirled around and caught Natkual’s hand mere inches from Raymora’s neck, knife in hand.   
At that moment, it was impossible to tell who was more shocked. The two dragons stared at each in disbelief. “How did you-” the waterscale howled, struggling to reclaim his claw from Raymora’s tight grasp  
“What are you doing? Why are you trying to kill me” he cried, using all his might to take the knife, but in the end Raymora stood no chance against the much bigger dragon. Without hesitation, Natkual dug his sharp claws into Raymora’s arm. Blood slowly began to drip out yet Raymora refused to let go, In response Natkual swung his heavy, spike covered tail into Raymora’s chest, forcing him to release his grip and stumble back towards the wall.   
This clearly angered Natkual as he snarled, and threw the knife to the ground. After chanting indecipherable words, a light blue glow surrounded his body: the aura of Aquis. Any hope that Natkual was only trying to incapacitate was gone, because the wall of razor sharp icicles pointed directly towards him was hard to ignore. Thanks to his quick reflexes, Raymora threw himself to the ground right before the spell made contact.   
A blue aura of Aquis magic surrounded Natkual as he prepared another spell, his previous icicle storm had missed Raymora and impaled themselves deeply into the wall he once had his back against. The wooden wall shattered from the impact, clearly it wasn’t made to support the weight of a dragon crashing through it, leaving Raymora laying on the ground littered with broken ice and wood. Trapped in an alleyway, there was seemingly only one option.  
Escape into the city seemed desperate with all the Locust still running amok, but there was no other option. Raymora turned and started to stand, but before he could get anywhere he felt a crushing weight upon his tail. Stomping on an opponent’s tail was a dirty tactic only used by the lowest of mercenaries who lack any form of honor.   
He yelped and desperately pulled at his tall but it was completely locked down by Natkual’s sea green hind-claw. At this point escape was feeling slim. Yet Raymora has made too far to give up now, after his run-in with Team Storm back at the sparkling lake, he had more trust in his own abilities. Magic was the only way Natkual could finish off Raymora, as moving his claw would allow him to escape.   
Natkual began to recite the same magical words he had before, meaning time was running out. He stood at the edge of the shattered wall, the glowing light from his magical aura was being reflected off of something. Miraculously the shelfs containing arrays of priceless artifacts were not knocked down from the first spell, and the elder dragon stood ignorantly under it.   
The next action was obvious, and while Raymora was still completely terrified he understood there would be no second chances. He drew in his breath and released a large blast of frost fire. Natkual mindlessly ducked, but failed to realize that he wasn’t the target of this seemingly desperate attack.   
A vicious snap was heard above the elder dragon, metal artifacts and ceramic vases crashed down on Natkual. Quicker than anticipated, he released his claw that held down Raymora’s tail and wheeled back trying to keep himself standing. Insticitly, Raymora aimed another blast towards the water dragon’s scaly feet. Before he could react, the attack knocked Natkual on the ground, where he went still.   
Raymora’s maw burned but he resisted the urge to scream; if the sounds of a collapsing wall didn’t alert the locust, then his scream surely will. Still, he couldn’t believe it. Did he really just defeat a mage in combat? Even in his own thoughts he used the term mage, unable to accept their true identity. To him, Natkual was still a friend.  
Natkual’s body was motionless, no signs of breath to be seen. It took all of his might to stop himself from getting any closer. Instead, he reassured himself that Natkual was a powerful dragon, and wouldn’t be done in so easily. Hopefully he’d wake before the locust found him.   
Gulping down the remaining frost fire within his maw, he turned to face his next problem. Escaping the city.


End file.
